st esteem for Mr Westray; she trusted that the present
circumstances would not interrupt their friendship in any way. She
hoped that their relations might continue as in the past, and in this
hope she remained very truly his.

She gave a sigh of relief when the letter was finished, and read it
through carefully, putting in commas and semicolons and colons at what
she thought appropriate places. Such punctilio pleased her; it was, she
considered, due from one who aspired to a literary style, and aimed at
making a living by the pen. Though this was the first answer to a
proposal that she had written on her own account, she was not altogether
without practice in such matters, as she had composed others for her
heroines who had found themselves in like position. Her manner, also,
was perhaps unconsciously influenced by a perusal of "The Young Person's
Compleat Correspondent, and Guide to Answers to be given in the Various
Circumstances of Life," which, in a tattered calf covering, formed an
item in Miss Euphemia's library.

It was not till the missive was duly sealed up and posted that she told
her aunt of what had happened. "There is Mr Westray's letter," she
said, "if you would care to read it," and passed over to Miss Joliffe
the piece of white paper on which a man had staked his fate.

Miss Joliffe took the letter with an attempt to assume an indifferent
manner, which was unsuccessful, because an offer of marriage has about
it a certain exhalation and atmosphere that betrays its importance even
to the most unsuspicious. She was a slow reader, and, after wiping and
adjusting her spectacles, sat down for a steady and patient
consideration of the matter before her.

But the first word that she deciphered, "Dearest," startled her
composure, and she pressed on through the letter with a haste that was
foreign to her disposition. Her mouth grew rounder as she read, and she
sighed out "Dear's" and "Dear Anastasia's" and "Dear Child's" at
intervals as a relief to her feelings.

Anastasia stood by her, following the lines of writing that she knew by
heart, with all the impatience of one who is reading ten times faster
than another who turns the page.

Miss Joliffe's mind was filled with conflicting emotions; she was glad
at the prospect of a more assured future that was opening before her
niece, she was hurt at not having been taken sooner into confidence, for
Anastasia must certainly have known that he was going to