She had intended to go out, but it was grey and cheerless out of doors, and the attraction of a bright fire, and a new book, proved too strong for her.
The book was one of her favourite Indian stories, and she lost herself in the delightful depths of the "forest primeval" with an entire and blissful forgetfulness of England and common sense.

But she roused herself, with a start of no little surprise, when her father suddenly walked into the room.
"Papa!" she cried, jumping up and letting her book fall, with a sudden conviction that something important indeed, must have brought so unusual a visitor.
"Sit down, my dear," he answered kindly; "I have something to say to you.

It did not seem necessary to say anything about it before, but now you are nearly twenty-one, and that is the time I have always fixed upon." "Fixed upon for what, papa ?" she said, utterly at a loss.
"For your marriage, my dear.

It is a good age, quite young enough, and yet old enough for a girl to have some idea of her duties.

I wish you to be married in February.