temper, no woman
could stand higher than Miss Dunstable; no one had ever heard of her
being in an ill-humour; and then though Mrs. Gresham was gifted with
a mind which was far removed from being mercenary, it was impossible
not to feel that some benefit must accrue from the bride's wealth.
Mary Thorne, the present Mrs. Frank Gresham, had herself been a
great heiress. Circumstances had weighted her hand with enormous
possessions, and hitherto she had not realized the truth of that
lesson which would teach us to believe that happiness and riches
are incompatible. Therefore she resolved that it might be well if
the doctor and Miss Dunstable were brought together. But could the
doctor be induced to make such an offer? Mrs. Gresham acknowledged a
terrible difficulty in looking at the matter from that point of view.
Her uncle was fond of Miss Dunstable; but she was sure that an idea
of such a marriage had never entered his head; that it would be very
difficult--almost impossible--to create such an idea; and that if the
idea were there, the doctor could hardly be instigated to make the
proposition. Looking at the matter as a whole, she feared that the
match was not practicable.

On the day of Miss Dunstable's party, Mrs. Gresham and her uncle
dined together alone in Portman Square. Mr. Gresham was not yet in
Parliament, but an almost immediate vacancy was expected in his
division of the county, and it was known that no one could stand
against him with any chance of success. This threw him much among the
politicians of his party--those giants, namely, whom it would be his
business to support--and on this account he was a good deal away from
his own house at the present moment. "Politics make a terrible demand
on a man's time," he said to his wife; and then went down to dine at
his club in Pall Mall, with sundry other young philogeants. On men of
that class politics do make a great demand--at the hour of dinner and
thereabouts.

"What do you think of Miss Dunstable?" said Mrs. Gresham to her
uncle, as they sat together over their coffee. She added nothing to
the question, but asked it in all its baldness.

"Think about her!" said the doctor; "well, Mary, what do you think
about her? I dare say we think the same."

"But that's not the question. What do you think about her? Do you
think she's honest?"

"Honest? Oh, yes, certainly--very honest, I should say."

"And good-tempered?"

"Uncommonly good-tempered."

"And aff