ion and real
alarm--'is it not possible that some mistake may be at the bottom of all
this?'

'Mistake, dearest! none,' said my mother. 'None; none in the world.
Judge for yourself; read this, my love.' And she placed in my hand a
letter, addressed to herself, the seal of which was broken. I read
it through with no small surprise. After some very fine complimentary
flourishes upon my beauty and perfections, as also upon the antiquity
and high reputation of our family, it went on to make a formal proposal
of marriage, to be communicated or not to me at present, as my mother
should deem expedient; and the letter wound up by a request that the
writer might be permitted, upon our return to Ashtown House, which was
soon to take place, as the spring was now tolerably advanced, to visit
us for a few days, in case his suit was approved.

'Well, well, my dear,' said my mother, impatiently; 'do you know who
Lord Glenfallen is?'

'I do, madam,' said I rather timidly, for I dreaded an altercation with
my mother.

'Well, dear, and what frightens you?' continued she. 'Are you afraid of
a title? What has he done to alarm you? he is neither old nor ugly.'

I was silent, though I might have said, 'He is neither young nor
handsome.'

'My dear Fanny,' continued my mother, 'in sober seriousness you have
been most fortunate in engaging the affections of a nobleman such as
Lord Glenfallen, young and wealthy, with first-rate--yes, acknowledged
FIRST-RATE abilities, and of a family whose influence is not exceeded
by that of any in Ireland. Of course you see the offer in the same light
that I do--indeed I think you MUST.'

This was uttered in no very dubious tone. I was so much astonished by
the suddenness of the whole communication that I literally did not know
what to say.

'You are not in love?' said my mother, turning sharply, and fixing her
dark eyes upon me with severe scrutiny.

'No, madam,' said I, promptly; horrified, as what young lady would not
have been, at such a query.

'I'm glad to hear it,' said my mother, drily. 'Once, nearly twenty
years ago, a friend of mine consulted me as to how he should deal with a
daughter who had made what they call a love-match--beggared herself, and
disgraced her family; and I said, without hesitation, take no care
for her, but cast her off. Such punishment I awarded for an offence
committed against the reputation of a family not my own; and what I
advised respecting the child of another