e cottage and saw Mrs. Askerton.
She went there with the express purpose of telling her friend of her
engagement,--desirous of obtaining in that quarter the sympathy which
her father declined to give her. Had her communication to him been
accepted in a different spirit, she might probably have kept her
secret from Mrs. Askerton till something further had been fixed about
her marriage; but she was in want of a few kind words, and pined
for some of that encouragement which ladies in love usually wish to
receive, at any rate from some one chosen friend. But when she found
herself alone with Mrs. Askerton she hardly knew how to tell her
news; and at first could not tell it at all, as that lady was eager
in speaking on another subject.

"When do you expect your cousin?" Mrs. Askerton asked, almost as soon
as Clara was seated.

"The day after to-morrow."

"And he is in London now?"

"He may be. I dare say he is. But I don't know anything about it."

"I can tell you then that he is. Colonel Askerton has heard of his
being there."

"You seem to speak of it as though there were some offence in it. Is
there any reason why he should not be in London if he pleases?"

"None in the least. I would much rather that he should be there than
here."

"Why so? Will his coming hurt you?"

"I don't like him. I don't like him at all;--and now you know the
truth. You believe in him;--I don't. You think him to be a fine
fellow and a gentleman, whereas I don't think him to be either."

"Mrs. Askerton!"

"This is strong language, I know."

"Very strong language."

"Yes, my dear; but the truth is, Clara, that you and I, living
together here this sort of hermit's life, each seeing so much of
the other and seeing nothing of anybody else, must either be real
friends, telling each other what we think, or we must be nothing. We
can't go on with the ordinary make-believes of society, saying little
civil speeches and not going beyond them. Therefore I have made up my
mind to tell you in plain language that I don't like your cousin, and
don't believe in him."

"I don't know what you mean by believing in a man."

"I believe in you. Sometimes I have thought that you believe in me,
and sometimes I have feared that you do not. I think that you are
good, and honest, and true; and therefore I like to see your face and
hear your voice,--though it is not often that you say very pleasant
things to me."

"Do I say unpleasant things?"

"I am