legacies that Sir
Wycherly _intended_ to leave."

"Don't place any expectations on that, Mildred. I dare say he would
settle ten of the twenty thousand on you to-morrow, if you would consent
to have him. But, now, as to this new baronet, for it seems he is to
have both title and estate--has _he_ ever offered?"

There was a long pause, during which Wycherly thought he heard the hard
but suppressed breathing of Mildred. To remain quiet any longer, he felt
was as impossible as, indeed, his conscience told him was dishonourable,
and he sprang along the path to ascend to the summer-house. At the first
sound of his footstep, a faint cry escaped Mildred; but when Wycherly
entered the pavilion, he found her face buried in her hands, and Dutton
tottering forward, equally in surprise and alarm. As the circumstances
would not admit of evasion, the young man threw aside all reserve, and
spoke plainly.

"I have been an unwilling listener to a _part_ of your discourse with
Mildred, Mr. Dutton," he said, "and can answer your last question for
myself. I _have_ offered my hand to your daughter, sir; an offer that I
now renew, and the acceptance of which would make me the happiest man in
England. If your influence could aid me--for she has refused my hand."

"Refused!" exclaimed Dutton, in a surprise that overcame the calculated
amenity of manner he had assumed the instant Wycherly appeared--"Refused
Sir Wycherly Wychecombe! but it was before your rights had been as well
established as they are now. Mildred, answer to this--how _could_
you--nay, how _dare_ you refuse such an offer as this?"

Human nature could not well endure more. Mildred suffered her hands to
fall helplessly into her lap, and exposed a face that was lovely as that
of an angel's, though pale nearly to the hue of death. Feeling extorted
the answer she made, though the words had hardly escaped her, ere she
repented having uttered them, and had again buried her face in her
hands--

"Father"--she said--"_could_ I--_dare_ I to encourage Sir Wycherly
Wychecombe to unite himself to a family like ours!"

Conscience smote Dutton with a force that nearly sobered him, and what
explanation might have followed it is hard to say; Wycherly, in an
under-tone, however, requested to be left alone with the daughter.
Dutton had sense enough to understand he was _de trop_, and shame enough
to wish to escape. In half a minute, he had hobbled up to the summit of
the cliff and disappea