“You are alone, I see, my dear,” she said, as they entered the drawing-room together, looking round gravely.
Rosamond felt sure that her aunt had something particular to say, and they sat down near each other.
Nevertheless, the quilling inside Rosamond’s bonnet was so charming that it was impossible not to desire the same kind of thing for Kate, and Mrs. Bulstrode’s eyes, which were rather fine, rolled round that ample quilled circuit, while she spoke.
“I have just heard something about you that has surprised me very much, Rosamond.”
“What is that, aunt?” Rosamond’s eyes also were roaming over her aunt’s large embroidered collar.
“I can hardly believe it—that you should be engaged without my knowing it—without your father’s telling me.”
Here Mrs. Bulstrode’s eyes finally rested on Rosamond’s, who blushed deeply, and said—
“I am not engaged, aunt.”
“How is it that everyone says so, then—that it is the town’s talk?”
“The town’s talk is of very little consequence, I think,” said Rosamond, inwardly gratified.
“Oh, my dear, be more thoughtful; don’t despise your neighbors so. Remember you are turned twenty-two now, and you will have no fortune: your father, I am sure, will not be able to spare you anything. * Mr. Lydgate is very intellectual and clever; I know there is an attraction in