But these two were different from others.  They only saw their sister Selina, a woman no longer young, and not without her peculiarities, going to be married to a man she knew little or nothing about—­a man whom they themselves had endured rather than liked, and for the sake of gratitude.  He was trying enough merely as a chance visitor; but to look upon Mr. Ascott as a brother-in-law, as a husband—­ “Oh, Selina! you can not be in earnest?”

“Why not?  Why should I not be married as well as my neighbors?” said she, sharply.

Nobody arguing that point, both being indeed too bewildered to argue at all, she continued, majestically,

“I assure you, sisters, there could not be a more unexceptionable offer.  It is true, Mr. Ascott’s origin was rather humble; but I can overlook that.  In his present wealth, and with his position and character, he will make the best of husbands.”

Not a word was answered; what could be answered?  Selina was free to marry if she liked, and whom she liked.  Perhaps, from her nature, it was idle to expect her to marry in any other way than this; one of the thousand and one unions where the man desires a handsome, lady-like wife for the head of his establishment, and the woman wishes an elegant establishment to be mistress of; so they strike a bargain—­possibly as good as most other bargains.

Still, with one faint lingering of hope, Hilary asked if she had quite decided.

“Quite.  He wrote to me last night, and I gave him his answer this morning.”

Selina certainly had not troubled any body with her “love affairs.”  It was entirely a matter of business.

The sisters saw at once that she had made up her mind.  Henceforward there could be no criticism of Mr. Peter Ascott.

Now all was told, she talked freely of her excellent prospects.

“He had behaved handsomely—­very much so.  He makes a good settlement on me, and says how happy he will be to help my family, so as to enable you always to make a respectable appearance.”

“We are exceedingly obliged to him.”

“Don’t be sharp, Hilary.  He means well.  And he must feel that this marriage is a sort of—­ahem! condescension on my part, which I never should have dreamed of twenty years ago.”

Selina sighed; could it be at the thought of that twenty years ago?  Perhaps, shallow as she seemed, this woman might once have had some fancy, some ideal man whom she expected to meet and marry; possibly a very different sort of man from Mr. Peter Ascott.  However, the sigh was but momentary; she plunged back again into all the arrangements of her wedding, every one of which, down to the wedding-dress, she had evidently decided.

“And therefore you see,” she added, as it the unimportant, almost forgotten item of discussion had suddenly occurred to her, “it’s quite impossible that my sister should keep a shop.  I shall tell Mr. Ascott, and you will see what he says to it.”