t he was neither a fool nor a
knave, though, possibly, neither a sage nor a saint--but that is no
matter to me, as I am not likely to meet him again--unless as an
occasional partner in the ball-room.'

It was not so, however, for I met him again next morning. He came to
call upon my uncle, apologising for not having done so before, by saying
he was only lately returned from the Continent, and had not heard, till
the previous night, of my uncle's arrival in town; and after that I often
met him; sometimes in public, sometimes at home; for he was very
assiduous in paying his respects to his old friend, who did not, however,
consider himself greatly obliged by the attention.

'I wonder what the deuce the lad means by coming so often,' he would
say,--'can you tell, Helen?--Hey? He wants none o' my company, nor I
his--that's certain.'

'I wish you'd tell him so, then,' said my aunt.

'Why, what for? If I don't want him, somebody does, mayhap' (winking at
me). 'Besides, he's a pretty tidy fortune, Peggy, you know--not such a
catch as Wilmot; but then Helen won't hear of that match: for, somehow,
these old chaps don't go down with the girls--with all their money, and
their experience to boot. I'll bet anything she'd rather have this young
fellow without a penny, than Wilmot with his house full of gold.
Wouldn't you, Nell?'

'Yes, uncle; but that's not saying much for Mr. Huntingdon; for I'd
rather be an old maid and a pauper than Mrs. Wilmot.'

'And Mrs. Huntingdon? What would you rather be than Mrs.
Huntingdon--eh?'

'I'll tell you when I've considered the matter.'

'Ah! it needs consideration, then? But come, now--would you rather be an
old maid--let alone the pauper?'

'I can't tell till I'm asked.'

And I left the room immediately, to escape further examination. But five
minutes after, in looking from my window, I beheld Mr. Boarham coming up
to the door. I waited nearly half-an-hour in uncomfortable suspense,
expecting every minute to be called, and vainly longing to hear him go.
Then footsteps were heard on the stairs, and my aunt entered the room
with a solemn countenance, and closed the door behind her.

'Here is Mr. Boarham, Helen,' said she. 'He wishes to see you.'

'Oh, aunt!--Can't you tell him I'm indisposed?--I'm sure I am--to see
him.'

'Nonsense, my dear! this is no trifling matter. He is come on a very
important errand--to ask your hand in marriage of your uncle and me.'

'I hope my