ove of the match myself, I shall endeavour
the favour of his friends, and doubt not to obtain it. Rhoda will have
an excellent fortune, and she is of an agreeable turn enough. Now, my
dear, at the same time, I wish you to look round you, and see if you can
light on some decent man, fit for your station, that would not be
disagreeable to you. I have apprised myself that Sir Richard's chaplain
hath entered into no engagements, and if he were to your taste, I would
do my best to settle you in that quarter, I cannot think he would prove
uneasy to me, should I do him the honour; at the same time, if you find
him unpleasant to you, I do not press the affair. But 'tis high time
you should look out, for you have no fortune but yourself, and what I
may choose to give with you: and if you order yourself after my wish, I
engage myself to undertake for you--in reason, my dear, of course. The
chaplain is very well paid, for Sir Richard finds him in board and a
horse, and gives him beside thirty-five pound by the year, which is more
than many have. He is, I learn, a good, easy man, that would not be
likely to give his wife any trouble. Not very smart, but that can well
be got over; and of good family, but indigent--otherwise it may well be
reckoned he would not be a chaplain. So I bid you consider him well, my
dear, and let me know your thoughts when you return hither."

Phoebe's thoughts just then were chasing each other in wild confusion:
the principal one being that she was a victim led to the sacrifice with
a rope round her neck.

"I ask your pardon, Madam; but--"

"Well, my dear, if you have something you wish to say, I am ready to
listen to it," said Madam, with an air of extreme benignity.

Phoebe felt her position the more difficult because of her grandmother's
graciousness. She so evidently thought herself conferring a favour on a
portionless and unattractive girl, that it became hard to say an
opposing word.

"If you please, Madam, and asking your pardon, must I be married?"

"Must you be married, child!" repeated Madam in astonished tones, "Why,
of course you must. The woman is created for the man. You would not
die a maid?"

"I would rather, if you would allow me, Madam," faltered Phoebe.

"But, my dear, I cannot allow it. I should not be doing my duty by you
if I did. The woman is made for the man," repeated Madam,
sententiously.

"But--was every woman made for some man, if you please, Madam?" aske