Besworth, you may
calculate on it.--Or is it only for our sakes, as I sometimes
think?--Besworth is won. Nothing but the cost of the place (to be
considered you know!) could withhold it from us; and of that papa has not
uttered a syllable, though he conjures up every possible objection to a
change of abode, and will not (perhaps, poor dear, cannot) see what we
intend doing in the world. Now, you know that rich men invariably make
the question of the cost their first and loudest outcry. I know that to
be the case. They call it their blood. Papa seems indifferent to this
part of the affair. He does not even allude to it. Still, we do not
progress. It is just possible that the Tinleys have an eye on beautiful
Besworth. Their own place is bad enough, but good enough for them. Give
them Besworth, and they will sit upon the neighbourhood. We shall be
invaded by everything that is mean and low, and a great chance will be
gone for us. I think I may say, for the county. The country? Our advice
is, that you write to papa one of your cleverest letters. We know,
darling, what you can do with the pen as well as the sword. Write word
that you have written."

Wilfrid's reply stated that he considered it unadviseable that he should
add his voice to the request, for the present.

The ladies submitted to this quietly until they heard from their father
one evening at dinner that he had seen Wilfrid in the city.

"He doesn't waste his time like some young people I know," said Mr. Pole,
with a wink.

"Papa; is it possible?" cried Adela.

"Everything's possible, my dear."

"Lady Charlotte?"

"There is a Lady Charlotte."

"Who would be Lady Charlotte still, whatever occurred!"

Mr. Pole laughed. "No, no. You get nothing out of me. All I say is, be
practical. The sun isn't always shining."

He appeared to be elated with some secret good news.

"Have you been over to Besworth, the last two or three days?" he asked.

The ladies smiled radiantly, acknowledging Wilfrid's wonderful persuasive
powers, in their hearts.

"No, papa; we have not been," said Adela. "We are always anxious to go,
as I think you know."

The merchant chirped over his glass. "Well, well! There's a way."

"Straight?"

"Over a gate; ha, ha!"

His gaiety would have been perplexing, but for the allusion to Lady
Charlotte.

The sisters, in their unfailing midnight consultation, persuaded one
another that Wilfrid had become engaged to that lady. They wrote