e choose to avail himself of it. It is well he
should have such opportunity."

But Frank had more than this to do. He had told Beatrice that he
would make no secret of his love, and he fully resolved to be as good
as his word. To his father he owed an unreserved confidence; and he
was fully minded to give it. It was, he knew, altogether out of the
question that he should at once marry a portionless girl without his
father's consent; probably out of the question that he should do so
even with it. But he would, at any rate, tell his father, and then
decide as to what should be done next. So resolving, he put his black
horse into the stable and went in to dinner. After dinner he and his
father would be alone.

Yes; after dinner he and his father would be alone. He dressed
himself hurriedly, for the dinner-bell was almost on the stroke as he
entered the house. He said this to himself once and again; but when
the meats and the puddings, and then the cheese, were borne away,
as the decanters were placed before his father, and Lady Arabella
sipped her one glass of claret, and his sisters ate their portion of
strawberries, his pressing anxiety for the coming interview began to
wax somewhat dull.

His mother and sisters, however, rendered him no assistance by
prolonging their stay. With unwonted assiduity he pressed a second
glass of claret on his mother. But Lady Arabella was not only
temperate in her habits, but also at the present moment very angry
with her son. She thought that he had been to Boxall Hill, and was
only waiting a proper moment to cross-question him sternly on the
subject. Now she departed, taking her train of daughters with her.

"Give me one big gooseberry," said Nina, as she squeezed herself in
under her brother's arm, prior to making her retreat. Frank would
willingly have given her a dozen of the biggest, had she wanted them;
but having got the one, she squeezed herself out again and scampered
off.

The squire was very cheery this evening; from what cause cannot now
be said. Perhaps he had succeeded in negotiating a further loan, thus
temporarily sprinkling a drop of water over the ever-rising dust of
his difficulties.

"Well, Frank, what have you been after to-day? Peter told me you had
the black horse out," said he, pushing the decanter to his son. "Take
my advice, my boy, and don't give him too much summer road-work. Legs
won't stand it, let them be ever so good."

"Why, sir, I was obliged to