She sat down opposite them, at a rough oak table.

"A letter, Nelly!" said Marian. "A letter! A letter from Marmaduke! I
have extorted leave for you to read it. Here it is. Handle it carefully,
pray."

"Has he proposed?" said Elinor, taking it.

Constance changed color. Elinor opened the letter in silence, and read:

My dear Constance:

I hope you are quite well. I am having an awfully jolly time of it
here. What a pity it is you dont come over! I was wishing for you
yesterday in the Louvre, where we spent a pleasant day looking at
the pictures. I send you the silk you wanted, and had great trouble
hunting through half-a-dozen shops for it. Not that I mind the
trouble, but just to let you see my devotion to you. I have no more
to say at present, as it is nearly post hour. Remember me to the
clan.

Yours ever,
DUKE.

P.S.--How do Nelly and your mother get along together?

Whilst Elinor was reading, the gardener passed the summer-house, and
Constance went out and spoke to him. Elinor looked significantly at
Marian.

"Nelly," returned Marian, in hushed tones of reproach, "you have stabbed
poor Constance to the heart by telling her that Marmaduke never proposed
to her. That is why she has gone out."

"Yes," said Elinor, "it was brutal. But I thought, as you made such a
fuss about the letter, that it must have been a proposal at least. It
cant be helped now. It is one more enemy for me, that is all."

"What do you think of the letter? Was it not kind of him to
write--considering how careless he is usually?"

"Hm! Did he match the silk properly?".

"To perfection. He must really have taken some trouble. You know how he
botched getting the ribbon for his fancy dress at the ball last year."

"That is just what I was thinking about. Do you remember also how he
ridiculed the Louvre after his first trip to Paris, and swore that
nothing would ever induce him to enter it again?"

"He has got more sense now. He says in the letter that he spent
yesterday there."

"Not exactly. He says '_we_ spent a pleasant day looking at the
pictures.' Who is '_we_'?"

"Some companion of his, I suppose. Why?"

"I was just thinking could it be the person who has matched the silk so
well. The same woman, I mean."

"Oh, Nelly!"

"Oh, Marian! Do you suppose Marmaduke would spend an afternoon at the
Louvre