"I promise you, madam, that I will not, directly or indirectly, make an
offer of my hand or heart to any woman, without previously letting you
know my determination. And as for a few weeks, more or less--my mother,
surely, need not supplicate, but simply let me know her wishes--even
without her reasons, they would have been sufficient with me. Do I
satisfy you now, madam?"

"More than satisfy--as you ever do, ever will, my dear son."

"But you will require no more on this subject--I must be left master
of myself."

"Indubitably--certainly--master of yourself--most certainly--of
course."

Mr. Beaumont was going to add something beginning with, "It is better,
at once, to tell you, that I can never--" But Mrs. Beaumont stopped him
with, "Hush! my dear, hush! not a word more, for here is Amelia, and I
cannot talk on this subject before her, you know.----My beloved Amelia,
how languid you look! I fear that, to please me, you have taken too long
a walk; and Mr. Palmer won't see you in your best looks, after
all.--What note is that you have in your hand?"

"A note from Miss Walsingham, mamma."

"Oh! the chickenpox! take caer! letters, notes, every thing may convey
the infection," cried Mrs. Beaumont, snatching the paper. "How could
dearest Miss Walsingham be so giddy as to answer my note, after what I
said in my postscript!--How did this note come?"