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. "You notice that she hasn't given a glance at the
kitchen or the range, although they are the most important features
of the house. I think she may have just put her head inside the
dining-room door, but she certainly didn't give a moment to the
butler's pantry or the china closet. You will find that she won't
mount to the fifth floor to see how the servants are housed, - not
she, careless, pretty creature; she will go straight to the drawing-
room."
And so she did; and at the same instant a still younger and prettier
creature drove up in a hansom, and was out of it almost before the
admiring cabby could stop his horse or reach down for his fare. She
flew up the stairway and danced into the drawing-room like a young
whirlwind; flung open doors, pulled up blinds with a jerk, letting
in the sunlight everywhere, and tiptoed to and fro over the dusty
floors, holding up her muslin flounces daintily.
"This must be the daughter of his first marriage," I remarked.
"Who will not get on with the young stepmother," finished Mr.
Beresford.
"It is his youngest daughter," corrected Salemina, - "the youngest
daughter of his only wife, and the image of her deceased mother, who
was, in her time, the belle of Dublin."
She might well have been that, we all agreed; for this young beauty
was quite the Irish type, such black hair, grey-blue eyes, and
wonderful lashes, and such a merry, arch, winsome face, that one
loved her on the instant.
