not exactly the making of opportunities, but the smoothing away of obstacles, if obstacles are likely to occur. But I am sure you understand. Yes?"
"I think so," said Aunt Harriet. "I am not myself an experienced match-maker, but"
"Oh, but," said Mrs. Rochester, clasping her little grey suède-covered hands, "the match is already made! I tell you this in confidence, though of course I can have no objection to your telling your nieces—so long as they understand that it is a confidence. No congratulations, of course—no allusions even."
Here the front-door bell reverberated through the house.
"But I am detaining you," said Mrs. Rochester, "You are expecting visitors?"
"Not at all," said the wonderful aunt. "That is probably one of the maids. My housekeeper allows them to come in by the front door on their evenings out; she tells me it obviates those undesirable lingering partings in the shrubbery leading to the back premises."
Here the drawing-room door opened and Stanley announced "Mr. Tombs." Stanley was one of those admirable servants who seem made of wood and wire; she never glanced towards the ladies, but shut the door softly and retired as Mr. Tombs advanced.
"Oh, poor Lucy!" said Jane, and managed to get round to the drawing-room before Mr. Tombs had had time to do more than seek to excuse the lateness of his call. "Very late, I know, for a business call, but I thought it would save correspondence if I came personally to enquire . . ."
"If Mr. Tombs will wait in the library, my dear," said the aunt to Jane, "I shall be disengaged presently."
"Oh, but I mustn't detain you." Mrs. Rochester spoke at once on this hint. "Our little talk is quite over. I have so enjoyed it, Miss Lucas. Good evening. Oh no—I am not at all nervous; besides, my son is waiting for
