felt with unerring instinct that this
was the state of affairs. He was making up his mind to propose. So much
of her and so little of her had at length made an end of all the prudent
hesitations that lay under the crisp pie-crust of that starched and
dazzling shirt front. That he should never be able to speak a word to
her without that May! that fellow! "the son of my coach!" poking himself
in, was a thing which at length had fired his cool blood to fever heat.
Nobody else could play his accompaniments like that, or pull him through
the "Wedding March" like that; and who would look better at the head of
a table, or show better at a ball, or get on better in society? No one
he knew, certainly. It was true she was only a Minister's daughter, and
without a penny; for the little fortune Mr. and Mrs. Beecham had
carefully gathered together and preserved for their daughter, what was
that to the Copperheads?--nothing, not a penny. But, on the other hand,
Clarence felt that he himself, or rather his father, was rich enough to
be able to afford a wife without money. There was no reason why he
should marry money; and a wife like Phoebe, what a relief that would be,
in the way of education! No need of any more coaching. She was clever,
and fond of reading, and so forth. She would get everything up for him,
if he went into parliament, or that sort of thing; why, she'd keep him
posted up. "There ain't many girls that could do that," he said to
himself. She would save him worlds of trouble; save his money even, for
coaches and that sort of thing cost money; and then that fellow May
would be out of it; his nose would be put out of joint. These are not
eloquent sentiments, but so it was that Clarence's natural feelings
expressed themselves. He had intimated that he would see Miss Phoebe
home, but May had stalked out side by side with him--had not left them
for a moment; and Clarence determined that he would not stand it any
longer. If there was no other way of shaking this fellow off, why, then
he would make up his mind to it, and propose.

Phoebe somehow saw all this written in his fine countenance, and she saw
at the same time that poor Reginald, who was (she thought) young and
simple, and just the sort of poor boy to yield to such folly, was in
love with her; and her head was buzzing with the double discovery. The
first was (of course) the most important. She had no time to indulge her
thoughts while she walked up between them, keepi