Alicia's death had, even more than usual, thrown her among her own reflections: once or twice, to be sure, her maid had said, "Lord, miss, you see if your aunt does not run away with your beau!"
A young man, in the country, is always disposed of, whether with or without his consent; and Emily considered it quite in the common course of things that Mr. Sillery should be set down to her account;—and as for the remark about her aunt, she held it to be an impertinence which it would be wrong to encourage by even listening to such an absurdity.
One morning, however, entering the breakfast-room rather suddenly, to her surprise she saw her aunt and Mr. Sillery seated, her hand in his, while he was speaking with great earnestness. Retreat she could not, without being perceived—and she stood one moment in all the embarrassment of indecision; when Mr. Sillery, who had seen her enter, rose—and, before she could speak, led her forward, and with the utmost coolness entreated her to plead for him. "Yes, dear Miss Arundel, join your persuasions with mine—implore our kind friend to make me the happiest of men."
This was really too good; and Emily hurried
