all have occasion for remembering." Then he
paused a moment before he went on. "I have told you before that I do
not intend to take possession of the place. I do not regard it as
mine at all."

"And whose is it, then?"

"Yours."

"No, dear Will; it is not mine. You know that."

"I intend that it shall be so, and therefore you might as well put
the keys where you will know how to find them."

After he had gone she did take up the key, and tied it with sundry
others, which she intended to give to the old servant who was to be
left in charge of the house. But after a few moments' consideration
she took the cellar key again off the bunch, and put it back upon the
sofa,--in the place to which he had thrown it.

On the following morning they started on their journey. The old fly
from Redicote was not used on this occasion, as Belton had ordered a
pair of post-horses and a comfortable carriage from Taunton. "I think
it such a shame," said Clara, "going away for the last time without
having Jerry and the grey horse." Jerry was the man who had once
driven her to Taunton when the old horse fell with her on the road.
"But Jerry and the grey horse could not have taken you and me too,
and all our luggage," said Will. "Poor Jerry! I suppose not," said
Clara; "but still there is an injury done in going without him."

There were four or five old dependents of the family standing round
the door to bid her adieu, to all of whom she gave her hand with a
cordial pressure. They, at least, seemed to regard her departure as
final. And of course it was final. She had assured herself of that
during the night. And just as they were about to start, both Colonel
and Mrs. Askerton walked up to the door. "He wouldn't let you go
without bidding you farewell," said Mrs. Askerton. "I am so glad to
shake hands with him," Clara answered. Then the Colonel spoke a word
to her, and, as he did so, his wife contrived to draw Will Belton for
a moment behind the carriage. "Never give it up, Mr. Belton," said
she, eagerly. "If you persevere she'll be yours yet." "I fear not,"
he said. "Stick to her like a man," said she, pressing his hand in
her vehemence. "If you do, you'll live to thank me for having told
you so." Will had not a word to say for himself, but he thought that
he would stick to her. Indeed, he thought that he had stuck to her
pretty well.

At last they were off, and the village of Belton was behind them.
Will, glancing into his cousin's