He knew well enough that her
loveliness could be nothing to him;--but a woman's beauty is in one
sense as free as the air in all Christian countries. It is a light
shed for the delight, not of one, but of many. There could be no
reason why he should not be among the admirers of Miss Bonner.
"I expect, you know, to be admitted quite on the terms of an old
friend," he said. "I shall call you Mary, and all that kind of
thing."

"I don't see your claim," said Miss Bonner.

"Oh yes, you do,--and must allow it. I was almost a sort of son of
Sir Thomas's,--till he turned me off when I came of age. And Patience
and Clarissa are just the same as sisters to me."

"You are not even a cousin, Mr. Newton."

"No;--I'm not a cousin. It's more like a foster-brother, you know. Of
course I shan't call you Mary if you tell me not. How is it to be?"

"Just for the present I'll be Miss Bonner."

"For a week or so?"

"Say for a couple of years, and then we'll see how it is."

"You'll be some lucky's fellow's wife long before that. Do you like
living at Fulham?"

"Very much. How should I not like it? They are so kind to me. And you
know, when I first resolved to come home, I thought I should have
to go out as a governess,--or, perhaps, as a nursery-maid, if they
didn't think me clever enough to teach. I did not expect my uncle to
be so good to me. I had never seen him, you know. Is it not odd that
my uncle is so little at home?"

"It is odd. He is writing a book, you see, and he finds that the air
of Fulham doesn't suit his brains."

"Oh, Mr. Newton!"

"And he likes to be quite alone. There isn't a better fellow going
than your uncle. I am sure I ought to say so. But he isn't just what
I should call,--sociable."

"I think him almost perfection;--but I do wish he was more at home
for their sakes. We'll go in now, Mr. Newton. Patience has gone in,
and I haven't seen Clarissa for ever so long."

Soon after this the guests began to go away. Mr. Truepeny gave Mrs.
Brownlow's hand the last squeeze, and Mr. Poojean remarked that
all terrestrial joys must have an end. "Not but that such hours as
these," said he, "have about them a dash of the celestial which
almost gives them a claim to eternity." "Horrible fool!" said
Clarissa to her sister, who was standing close to her.

"Mrs. Brownlow would, perhaps, prefer going to bed," said Ralph.
Then every one was gone except the Underwoods and Ralph Newton. The
girls had on their hats a