tion as
that," said Sowerby, walking up and down his sister's room; "and,
upon my word, I don't think I am up to the task. I should certainly
break down. I don't believe there's a man in London could go to a
woman with such a story as that, and then ask her to marry him."

"If you cannot, you may as well give it up," said Mrs. Harold
Smith. "But if you can do it--if you can go through with it in that
manner--my own opinion is that your chance of success would not be
bad. The fact is," added the sister after awhile, during which her
brother was continuing his walk and meditating on the difficulties
of his position--"the fact is, you men never understand a woman; you
give her credit neither for her strength, nor for her weakness. You
are too bold, and too timid: you think she is a fool and tell her so,
and yet never can trust her to do a kind action. Why should she not
marry you with the intention of doing you a good turn? Alter all, she
would lose very little: there is the estate, and if she redeemed it,
it would belong to her as well as to you."

"It would be a good turn, indeed. I fear I should be too modest to
put it to her in that way."

"Her position would be much better as your wife than it is at
present. You are good-humoured and good-tempered, you would intend to
treat her well, and, on the whole, she would be much happier as Mrs.
Sowerby, of Chaldicotes, than she can be in her present position."

"If she cared about being married, I suppose she could be a peer's
wife to-morrow."

"But I don't think she cares about being a peer's wife. A needy peer
might perhaps win her in the way that I propose to you; but then
a needy peer would not know how to set about it. Needy peers have
tried--half a dozen I have no doubt--and have failed, because they
have pretended that they were in love with her. It may be difficult,
but your only chance is to tell her the truth."

"And where shall I do it?"

"Here if you choose; but her own house will be better."

"But I never can see her there--at least not alone. I believe that
she never is alone. She always keeps a lot of people round her in
order to stave off her lovers. Upon my word, Harriet, I think I'll
give it up. It is impossible that I should make such a declaration to
her as that you propose."

"Faint heart, Nat--you know the rest."

"But the poet never alluded to such wooing as that you have
suggested. I suppose I had better begin with a schedule of my debts,