repare Emily for what
was coming. "Lopez has been to your father," said Mrs. Roby, in a
voice not specially encouraging for such an occasion. Then she paused
a moment; but her niece said nothing, and she continued, "Yes,--and
your father has been blaming me,--as if I had done anything! If he
did not mean you to choose for yourself, why didn't he keep a closer
look-out?"

"I haven't chosen any one, Aunt Harriet."

"Well;--to speak fairly, I thought you had; and I have nothing to say
against your choice. As young men go, I think Mr. Lopez is as good
as the best of them. I don't know why you shouldn't have him. Of
course you'll have money, but then I suppose he makes a large income
himself. As to Mr. Fletcher, you don't care a bit about him."

"Not in that way, certainly."

"No doubt your papa will have it out with you just now; so you had
better make up your mind what you will say to him. If you really like
the man, I don't see why you shouldn't say so, and stick to it. He
has made a regular offer, and girls in these days are not expected
to be their father's slaves." Emily said nothing further to her aunt
on that occasion, but finding that she must in truth "have it out"
with her father presently, gave herself up to reflection. It might
probably be the case that the whole condition of her future life
would depend on the way in which she might now "have it out" with her
father.

I would not wish the reader to be prejudiced against Miss Wharton by
the not unnatural feeling which may perhaps be felt in regard to the
aunt. Mrs. Roby was pleased with little intrigues, was addicted to
the amusement of fostering love affairs, was fond of being thought
to be useful in such matters, and was not averse to having presents
given to her. She had married a vulgar man; and, though she had not
become like the man, she had become vulgar. She was not an eligible
companion for Mr. Wharton's daughter,--a matter as to which the
father had not given himself proper opportunities of learning the
facts. An aunt in his close neighbourhood was so great a comfort
to him,--so ready and so natural an assistance to him in his
difficulties! But Emily Wharton was not in the least like her aunt,
nor had Mrs. Wharton been at all like Mrs. Roby. No doubt the contact
was dangerous. Injury had perhaps already been done. It may be that
some slightest soil had already marred the pure white of the girl's
natural character. But if so, the stain was as yet