On the very day when Sir Patrick's dextrous treatment of his
sister-in-law had smoothed the way to the hastening of the marriage,
an obstacle was raised to the new arrangement by no less a person than
Blanche herself. She had sufficiently recovered, toward noon, to be able
to receive Arnold in her own little sitting-room. It proved to be a very
brief interview. A quarter of an hour later, Arnold appeared before Sir
Patrick--while the old gentleman was sunning himself in the garden--with
a face of blank despair. Blanche had indignantly declined even to think
of such a thing as her marriage, at a time when she was heart-broken by
the discovery that Anne had left her forever.

"You gave me leave to mention it, Sir Patrick--didn't you?" said Arnold.

Sir Patrick shifted round a little, so as to get the sun on his back,
and admitted that he had given leave.

"If I had only known, I would rather have cut my tongue out than have
said a word about it. What do you think she did? She burst out crying,
and ordered me to leave the room."

It was a lovely morning--a cool breeze tempered the heat of the sun; the
birds were singing; the garden wore its brightest look. Sir Patrick was
supremely comfortable. The little wearisome vexations of this mortal
life had retired to a respectful distance from him. He positively
declined to invite them to come any nearer.

"Here is a world," said the old gentleman, getting the sun a little more
broadly on his back, "which a merciful Creator has filled with lovely
sights, harmonious sounds, delicious scents; and here are creatures
with faculties expressly made for enjoyment of those sights, sounds, and
scents--to say nothing of Love, Dinner, and Sleep, all thrown into the
bargain. And these same creatures hate, starve, toss sleepless on their
pillows, see nothing pleasant, hear nothing pleasant, smell nothing
pleasant--cry bitter tears, say hard words, contract painful illnesses;
wither, sink, age, die! What does it mean, Arnold? And how much longer
is it all to go on?"

The fine connecting link between the blindness of Blanche to the
advantage of being married, and the blindness of humanity to the
advantage of being in existence, though sufficiently perceptible no
doubt to venerable Philosophy ripening in the sun, was absolutely
invisible to Arnold. He deliberately dropped the vast question opened by
Sir Patrick; and, reverting to Blanche, asked what was to be done.

"What do you do with