t once that General
Tracy never had any serious intention to part with Emily; but she had
all manner of masters at home, and soon made extraordinary progress.
As for the matter of his sons falling in love with her, attractive in all
beauty though she were, he never once had given it a thought: for, first,
he was too much a man of the world to believe in such ideal trash as
love: and next, he totally forgot that his "boy, or boys," had human
feelings. So, when his wife one day gave him a gentle and triumphant
hint of the state of affairs, it came upon him overwhelmingly, like an
avalanche: his yellow face turned flake-white, he trembled as he stood,
and really seemed to take so natural a probability to heart as the most
serious of evils.

"My son Julian in love with Emily! and if not he, at any rate Charles!
What the devil, madam, can you mean by this dreadful piece of
intelligence?--It's impossible, ma'am; nonsense! it can't be true; it
shan't, ma'am."

And the general, having issued his military mandates, wrapped himself
in secresy once more; satisfied that both of those troublesome sons
were to leave home after the next quarter, and the prize-money at
Hancock's.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CONFIDANTE.

But Mrs. Tracy had the best reason for believing her intelligence was
true, and she could see very little cause for regarding it as dreadful.
True, one son would have been enough for this wealthy Indian
heiress--but still it was no harm to have two strings to her bow. Julian
was her favourite, and should have the girl if she could manage it; but
if Emily Warren would not hear of such a husband, why Charles Tracy may
far better get her money than any body else.

That she possessed great wealth was evident: such jewellery, such
Trinchinopoli chains, such a blaze of diamonds _en suite_, such a
multitude of armlets, and circlets, and ear-rings, and other oriental
finery, had never shone on Devonshire before: at the Eyemouth ball, men
worshipped her, radiant in beauty, and gorgeously apparelled. Moreover,
money overflowed her purse, her work-box, and her jewel-case: Charles's
village school, and many other well-considered charities, rejoiced in
the streams of her munificence. The general had given her a banker's
book of signed blank checks, and she filled up sums at pleasure: such
unbounded confidence had he in her own prudence and her far-off father's
liberality. The few hints her husband deigned to give, encouraged M