ication of your engagement.
Your aunt and I unite in all good wishes. I recollect Lord Mickleham's
father when I had a curacy near Worcester. He was a regular attendant at
church and a supporter of all good works in the diocese. If only his
son takes after him (fancy Archie!) You have secured a prize. I hope
you have a proper sense of the responsibilities you are undertaking.
Marriage affords no small opportunities, it also entails certain
trials--'"

"Why, you're reading Aunt Georgiana again."

"Am I? No, it's Uncle William."

"Then let's try a fresh cast--unless you'll finish Georgy Vane's."

"Well, here's Cousin Susan's. She's an old maid, you know. It's very
long. Here's a bit: 'Woman has it in her power to exercise a sacred
influence. I have not the pleasure of knowing Lord Mickleham, but I
hope, my dear, that you will use your power over him for good. It is
useless for me to deny that when you stayed with me, I thought you were
addicted to frivolity. Doubtless marriage will sober you. Try to make a
good use of its lessons I am sending you a biscuit tin'--and so on."

"A very proper letter," said I.

Miss Dolly indulged in a slight grimace, and took up another letter.

"This," she said, "is from my sister-in-law, Mrs. Algernon Foster."

"A daughter of Lord Doldrums, wasn't she?"

"Yes. 'My dear Dorothea,--I have heard your news. I do hope it will turn
out happily. I believe that any woman who conscientiously does her duty
can find happiness in married life. Her husband and children occupy
all her time and all her thoughts, and if she can look for few of the
lighter pleasures of life, she has at least the knowledge that she is of
use in the world. Please accept the accompanying volumes (it's Browning)
as a small--' I say, Mr. Carter, do you think it's really like that?"

"There is still time to draw back," I observed.

"Oh, don't be silly. Here, this is my brother Tom's. 'Dear Dol,--I
thought Mickleham rather an ass when I met him, but I dare say you know
best. What's his place like? Does he take a moor? I thought I read that
he kept a yacht. Does he? Give him my love and a kiss. Good luck, old
girl. Tom. P.S.--I'm glad it's not me, you know.'"

"A disgusting letter," I observed.

"Not at all," said Miss Dolly, dimpling. "It's just like dear old Tom.
Listen to grandpapa's. 'My dear Granddaughter,--The alliance' (I rather
like it's being called an alliance, Mr. Carter. It sounds like the Royal
Family,