t there's no good in being
tortured, when there is no use. God bless you, dearest
love. I do love you so well!

Yours most affectionately,

W. BELTON.

She kissed the letter twice, pressed it to her bosom, and then sat
silent for half an hour thinking of it;--of it, and the man who wrote
it, and of the man who had written the other letter. She could not
but remember how that other man had thought to treat her, when it was
his intention and her intention that they two should join their lots
together;--how cold he had been; how full of caution and counsel; how
he had preached to her himself and threatened her with the preaching
of his mother; how manifestly he had purposed to make her life a
sacrifice to his life; how he had premeditated her incarceration at
Perivale, while he should be living a bachelor's life in London! Will
Belton's ideas of married life were very different. Only come to me
at once,--now, immediately, and everything else shall be disposed
just as you please. This was his offer. What he proposed to give,--or
rather his willingness to be thus generous, was very sweet to her;
but it was not half so sweet as his impatience in demanding his
reward. How she doted on him because he considered his present state
to be a purgatory! How could she refuse anything she could give to
one who desired her gifts so strongly?

As for her future residence, it would be a matter of indifference to
her where she should live, so long as she might live with him; but
for him,--she felt that but one spot in the world was fit for him.
He was Belton of Belton, and it would not be becoming that he should
live elsewhere. Of course she would go with him to Plaistow Hall as
often as he might wish it; but Belton Castle should be his permanent
resting-place. It would be her duty to be proud for him, and
therefore, for his sake, she would beg that their home might be in
Somersetshire.

"Mary," she said to her cousin soon afterwards, "Will sends his love
to you."

"And what else does he say?"

"I couldn't tell you everything. You shouldn't expect it."

"I don't expect it; but perhaps there may be something to be told."

"Nothing that I need tell,--specially. You, who know him so well, can
imagine what he would say."

"Dear Will! I am sure he would mean to write what was pleasant."

Then the matter would have dropped had Clara been so minded,--but
she, in truth, was anxious to be forced to talk about the letter