would say nothing. Nor did they
manifestly take steps to leave the two alone together. It was a
question with them, especially with Patience, whether the lover had
not come too soon.

But Clarissa at last attacked her sister. "Patience," she said, "why
do you not speak to me?"

"Not speak to you, Clary?"

"Not a word,--about that which is always on my mind. You have not
mentioned Ralph Newton's name once since his marriage."

"I have thought it better not to mention it. Why should I mention
it?"

"If you think that it would pain me, you are mistaken. It pains me
more that you should think that I could not bear it. He was welcome
to his wife."

"I know you wish him well, Clary."

"Well! Oh, yes, I wish him well. No doubt he will be happy with her.
She is fit for him, and I was not. He did quite right."

"He is not half so good as his brother," said Patience.

"Certainly he is not so good as his brother. Men, of course, will be
different. But it is not always the best man that one likes the best.
It ought to be so, perhaps."

"I know which I like the best," said Patience. "Oh, Clary, if you
could but bring yourself to love him."

"How is one to change like that? And I do not know that he cares for
me now."

"Ah;--I think he cares for you."

"Why should he? Is a man to be sacrificed for always because a girl
will not take him? His heart is changed. He takes care to show me so
when he comes here. I am glad that it should be changed. Dear Patty,
if papa would but come and live at home, I should want nothing else."

"I want something else," said Patience.

"I want nothing but that you should love me;--and that papa should be
with us. But, Patty, do not make me feel that you are afraid to speak
to me."

On the day following Gregory was again at Fulham, and he had come
thither fully determined that he would now for the last time ask that
question, on the answer to which, as it now seemed to him, all his
future happiness must depend. He had told himself that he would shake
off this too human longing for a sweet face to be ever present with
him at his board, for a sweet heart to cherish him with its love, for
a dear head to lie upon his bosom. But he had owned to himself that
it could not be shaken off, and having so owned, was more sick than
ever with desire. Mary and Clarissa were both out when he arrived,
and he was closeted for a while with Patience. "How tired you must be
of seeing me," he said.

"T