many people that I don't see. Your circle is rather different from ours."
"Well, but your own niece and Mr Bulstrode's great favourite—and yours too, I am sure, Harriet! I thought, at one time, you meant him for Kate, when she is a little older."
"I don't believe there can be anything serious at present," said Mrs Bulstrode. "My brother would certainly have told me."
"Well, people have different ways, but I understand that nobody can see Miss Vincy and Mr Lydgate together without taking them to be engaged. However, it is not my business. Shall I put up the pattern of mittens?"
After this Mrs Bulstrode drove to her niece with a mind newly weighted. She was herself handsomely dressed, but she noticed with a little more regret than usual that Rosamond, who was just come in and met her in walking-dress, was almost as expensively equipped. Mrs Bulstrode was a feminine smaller edition of her brother, and had none of her husband's low-toned pallor. She had a good honest glance and used no circumlocution.
"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
