the way of business; and if so, Mrs. Broughton
will certainly have a claim upon the estate." It occurred to
Dalrymple once or twice that he was talking to Clara about Mrs. Van
Siever as though he and Clara were more closely bound together than
were Clara and her mother; but Clara seemed to take this in good
part, and was as solicitous as was he himself in the matter of Mrs
Broughton's interest.

Then the discreet head-servant knocked and told them that Mrs
Broughton was very anxious to see Mr. Dalrymple, but that Miss
Van Siever was on no account to go away. She was up, and in her
dressing-gown, and had gone into the sitting-room. "I will come
directly," said Dalrymple, and the discreet head-servant retired.

"Clara," said Conway, "I do not know when I may have another chance
of asking for an answer to my question. You heard my question?"

"Yes, I heard it."

"And will you answer it?"

"If you wish it, I will."

"Of course I wish it. You understood what I said upon the door-step
yesterday?"

"I don't think much of that; men say those things so often. What you
said before was serious, I suppose?"

"Serious! Heavens! do you think that I am joking?"

"Mamma wants me to marry Mr. Musselboro."

"He is a vulgar brute. It would be impossible."

"It is impossible; but mamma is very obstinate. I have no fortune of
my own,--not a shilling. She told me to-day that she would turn me
out into the street. She forbade me to come here, thinking I should
meet you; but I came, because I had promised Mrs. Broughton. I am sure
that she will never give me one shilling."

Dalrymple paused for a moment. It was certainly true that he had
regarded Clara Van Siever as an heiress, and had at first been
attracted to her because he thought it expedient to marry an heiress.
But there had since come something beyond that, and there was perhaps
less of regret than most men would have felt as he gave up his golden
hopes. He took her into his arms and kissed her, and called her his
own. "Now we understand each other," he said.

"If you wish it to be so."

"I do wish it."

"And I shall tell my mother to-day that I am engaged to you,--unless
she refuses to see me. Go to Mrs. Broughton now. I feel that we are
almost cruel to be thinking of ourselves in this house at such a
time." Upon this Dalrymple went, and Clara Van Siever was left to
her reflections. She had never before had a lover. She had never had
even a friend whom she loved