The father, too, had speculated heavily in consorts or consuls, or whatever-you-call-'ems, and besought his child not to expose his defalcations and losses.

She, dutiful girl, did as she was bid, especially as her youngest sister came to her in tears and said, 'Unless you consent we shall have to sell the cow!' So she went to the altar with a heart full of palpitating respect, but no love to speak of; that always comes in time to heroines who sacrifice themselves and spare the cows." "It sounds strangely familiar," remarked Mr.Beresford, who was with us, as usual.

"Didn't a fellow turn up in the next chapter, a young nephew of the old husband, who fell in love with the bride, unconsciously and against his will?
Wasn't she obliged to take him into the conservatory, at the end of a week, and say, 'G-go! I beseech you! for b-both our sakes!'?
Didn't the noble fellow wring her hand silently, and leave her looking like a broken lily on the-" "How can you be so cynical, Mr.Beresford?
It isn't like you!" exclaimed Salemina.

"For my part, I don't think the girl is either his bride or his fiancee.

Probably the mother of the family is dead, and the father is bringing his eldest daughter to look at the house: that's my idea of it." This theory being just as plausible as ours, we did not discuss it, hoping that something would happen to decide the matter in one way or another.
"She is not married, I am sure," went on Salemina, leaning over the back of my chair.