re was a
communication between the two dwellings by means of a door in the
cellars, and all this while curiosity, or some better motive, had
prompted the eccentric old woman to come to and fro between her own
luxurious house and this, paying visits to the devoted girls, and
by turns terrifying and charming the children. Gertrude had been
interested from the first by the piquant individuality of the old
aristocrat, and was a decided favourite with her. It was plain now
that she had been listening to the conversation between father and
daughter, a thing so characteristic of her curiosity and even of
her benevolence that Gertrude hardly so much as resented it.
Nevertheless, having a spirit of her own, and being by no means
prepared to be dictated to in these matters, some hot words escaped
her lips almost before she knew, and were answered by Lady Scrope
by an amused peal of her witch-like laughter.

"Tut! tut! tut! Hoity toity! but she is in a temper, is she, my
lady? Well a good thing too. Your saints are insipid unless they
can call up a spice of the devil on occasion! Oh, don't you be
afraid of me, child. I've known all about you and young Harmer this
long time. I agree with your late mother, that you could do better;
but with all the world topsy turvy as it is now, we must take what
we can get; and that young man is estimable without doubt, and a
bit of a hero in his way. I don't blame you for loving him. It's
the way with maids, and will be to the end of time, I take it. All
I say is, don't throw yourself away too fast. Show a proper pride.
Keep him dangling and fearing, rather than hoping too much. Show
him that he can't have you just for the asking. Why, child, I have
kept a dozen fools hanging round me for a twelvemonth together
sometimes; but I only married when I was tired of the game, and
when I knew I had made sure of a captive who would not rebel. I
swore in church to obey poor Scrope; but, bless you, he obeyed me
like a lamb to the last day of his life--and was all the better for
it."

Lady Scrope's reminiscences and bits of worldly wisdom were not
much more to Gertrude's taste than her father's had been. It was
not pride, but a sense of humiliation and shame, which kept her
from facing the thought of marriage with Reuben now that she was
poor, when she had been scornfully denied to him when she was
thought to be a well-dowered maiden. The idea of keeping him
dangling after her in suspense was about the