Eliza's dark face turned red and haughty. "I do not understand you, Aunt
Emma."

"Nay, I think you do understand me, my dear. You have incautiously
allowed yourself to fall into--into an undesirable liking for Mr. Grame.
An _unseemly_ liking, Eliza."

"Unseemly!"

"Yes; because it has not been sought. Cannot you see, Eliza, how he
instinctively recedes from it? how he would repel it were he less the
gentleman than he is? Child, I shrink from saying these things to you,
but it is needful. You have good sense, Eliza, keen discernment, and you
might see for yourself that it is not to you Mr. Grame's love is
given--or ever will be."

For once in her life Eliza Monk allowed herself to betray agitation. She
opened her trembling lips to speak, but closed them again.

"A moment yet, Eliza. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that Mr.
Grame loved you; that he wished to marry you; you know, my dear, how
utterly useless it would be. Your father would not suffer it."

"Mr. Grame is of gentle descent; my father is attached to him," disputed
Eliza.

"But Mr. Grame has nothing but his living--a hundred and sixty pounds
a-year; _you_ must make a match in accordance with your own position. It
would be Katherine's trouble, Katherine's rebellion over again. But this