voted unanimously. 'He knows the colour of all the
eyes at the opera,' they said."

"No one can mistake that of Mrs. Winston's," Melcomb said, rising and
bowing. "My dear Mrs. Pendarrel, suffer me to take my leave."

"Now, Mildred dear, away and make ready," said Gertrude, smiling, and
her sister immediately complied with the wish.

"Mrs. Winston!" exclaimed the mother.

"Yes, dear mamma," Gertrude answered.

"Am I the mistress of my own house?"

"I presume so, dear mamma."

"Then note me. My visitors shall not be affronted here by you."

"Surely, mamma, Mr. Melcomb would thank me for a compliment. Every one
knows he is proud of his reputation."

"Every one knows your sarcasm," said Mrs. Pendarrel, "and I, at least,
perfectly understand your meaning. Once for all, Mrs. Winston, I will
suffer no interference with my intentions for Mildred. Why, I almost
think you would not have her settled at all. Very sisterly indeed,
Gertrude. Yet in your situation----"

"Mother," exclaimed Mrs. Winston, "not another word. But listen.
Rather than see Mildred settled even as I am, without offence, as
without affection, I know not to what I would not doom her! Rather
than see her wedded to one like Melcomb, would she might die in my
sight! You know me, mother. She is here."

"There's no danger, Gertrude," said Mrs. Pendarrel, as Mildred
entered; "au revoir."

The sisters then descended the stairs. As they passed through the
hall, they might have observed the presence of a young man, not in
livery, plainly dressed, having an appearance of _mauvaise honte_ not
often imputable to the denizens of London. They might have noticed
that after the first glimpse he caught of Mildred, his gaze was
rivetted upon her face, and the colour deepened in his cheeks as she
approached and swept by him, almost brushing him with the trimming of
her mantle. But in fact, they saw nothing of the kind, passing along
in polite indifference to Mrs. Winston's carriage.

"And so, Mildred," that lady said, as they drove away, "another
admirer! You are growing quite a coquette."

"Not exactly," answered the younger sister. "But I like to amuse
myself with the vanity of men. After all, I wish I were married."

Mrs. Winston sighed. "At another time, Mildred dear," she said, "I
might rally you for the avowal. But beware. Marriage is a sad
lottery."

"You are happy, Gertrude," said Mildred with some surprise.

Mrs. Winston looked out of her window.