the count has proposed to my aunt gwendolin, and she has accepted him. grandmother is in tears ever since, and uncle theodore is furious. i heard the latter talking to my grandmother—in his excitement he seemed to forget my presence—and he said:
"that frenchman is just a fortune-hunter, one of those penniless, titled gentry that swarm in europe. he wants gwendolin's money to regild a tarnished title, and gwendolin wants the title! he has found out from arabella delancy the size of gwendolin's fortune, in possession and in prospective, and he has offered his title in exchange for it! that's the size of the whole affair!"
"that's what grieves me most," said grandmother, with quivering lips; "it is not holy matrimony."
"i look for a divorce within five years!" continued my uncle.
"i had always hoped that gwendolin and professor ballington would make up some time," added grandmother.
"oh, gwendolin would never suit ballington," returned uncle theodore. "your granddaughter—the little celestial—is the making of a woman much more to his taste—" he looked up suddenly, and seemed to remember for the first time that i was in the room.
i, sly, subtle oriental that i am, worked away on my shadow embroidery and never by the wink of an eyelid, or the movement of a muscle showed that i heard a word.
