seem to take the allusion, even by a smile. "I always
thought Gregory much nicer looking," said Patience.

"That must be because you are in love with him," said Clarissa.

"There is a speaking brightness, an eloquence, in his eyes; and a
softness of feeling in the expression of his face, which is above all
beauty," continued Patience, with energy.

"Here's poetry," said Clarissa. "Eloquence, and softness, and eyes,
and feeling, and expressive and speaking brightness! You'd better say
at once that he's a god."

"I wish I knew him," said Mary Bonner.

"You'll know him before long, I don't doubt. And when you do, you'll
know one of the best fellows in the world. I'll admit as much as
that; but I will not admit that he can be compared to his brother in
regard to good looks." In all which poor Clarissa, who had nothing to
console her but her resolve to wait with courage, bore herself well
and gallantly.

Soon after this there arrived at Popham Villa the note from Gregory
Newton. As it happened, Sir Thomas was at home on that morning, and
heard the tidings. "If young Mr. Newton does come, get him to dine,
and I will take care to be at home," said Sir Thomas. Patience
suggested that Ralph,--their own Ralph,--should be asked to meet him;
but to this Sir Thomas would not accede. "It is not our business to
make up a family quarrel," he said. "I have had old Mr. Newton with
me once or twice lately, and I find that the quarrel still exists as
strong as ever. I asked him to dine here, but he refused. His son
chooses to come. I shall be glad to see him."

Gregory's letter had not been shown to Sir Thomas, but it was, of
course, shown to Clarissa. "How could I help it?" said she. From
which it may be presumed that Patience had looked as though Gregory
had been hardly treated. "One doesn't know how it is, or why it
comes, or what it is;--or why it doesn't come. I couldn't have taken
Gregory Newton for my husband."

"And yet he had all things to recommend him."

"I wish he had asked you, Patty!"

"Don't say that, dear, because there is in it something that annoys
me. I don't think of myself in such matters, but I do hope to see you
the happy wife of some happy man."

"I hope you will, with all my heart," said Clary, standing up,--"of
one man, of one special, dearest, best, and brightest of all men. Oh
dear! And yet I know it will never be, and I wonder at myself that I
have been bold enough to tell you." And Patience, also