on the shoulder; he seized my hand.

"Oh, I know you, Margaret; you are mine!"

"We are at the hotel."

He sent the carriage back, and said that he would leave me at my aunt's
door. He wished that he could see her then. Was it magic that made her
open the door before I reached it?

"Have you come on legal business?" she asked him.

"You have divined what I come for."

"Step in, step in; it's very late. I should have been in bed but for
neuralgia. Did Mr. Uxbridge come home with you, Margaret?"

"Yes, in Mrs. Bliss's carriage; I wished to come before she was ready to
leave."

"Well, Mr. Uxbridge is old enough for your protector, certainly."

"I _am_ forty, ma'am."

"Do you want Margaret?"

"I do."

"You know exactly how much is involved in your client's suit?"

"Exactly."

"You know also that his claim is an unjust one."

"Do I?"

"I shall not be poor if I lose; if I gain, Margaret will be rich."

"'Margaret will be rich,'" he repeated, absently.

"What! have you changed your mind respecting the orphans, aunt?"

"She has, and is--nothing," she went on, not heeding my remark. "Her
father married below his station; when he died his wife fell back to her
place--for he spent his fortune--and there she and Margaret must remain,
unless Lemorne is defeated."

"Aunt, for your succinct biography of my position many thanks."

"Sixty thousand dollars," she continued. "Van Horn tells me that, as
yet, the firm of Uxbridge Brothers have only an income--no capital."

"It is true," he answered, musingly.

The clock on the mantle struck two.

"A thousand dollars for every year of my life," she said. "You and I,
Uxbridge, know the value and beauty of money.

"Yes, there is beauty in money, and"--looking at me--"beauty without
it."

"The striking of the clock," I soliloquized, "proves that this scene is
not a phantasm."

"Margaret is fatigued," he said, rising. "May I come to-morrow?"

"It is my part only," replied Aunt Eliza, "to see that she is, or is
not, Cinderella."

"If you have ever thought of me, aunt, as an individual, you must have
seen that I am not averse to ashes."

He held my hand a moment, and then kissed me with a kiss of
appropriation.

"He is in love with you," she said, after he had gone. "I think I
know him. He has found beauty ignorant of itself; he will teach you to
develop it."

The next morning Mr. Uxbridge had an interview with Aunt Eliza before he
saw me.

When we w