for beauty,' growled Ralph.

'But I have,' rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. 'Oh dear! How handsome
her eyes looked when she was stooping over him! Such long lashes, such
delicate fringe! She--she--looked at me so soft.'

'Not over-lovingly, I think,' said Ralph. 'Did she?'

'No, you think not?' replied old Arthur. 'But don't you think it can be
brought about? Don't you think it can?'

Ralph looked at him with a contemptuous frown, and replied with a sneer,
and between his teeth:

'Did you mark his telling her she was tired and did too much, and
overtasked her strength?'

'Ay, ay. What of it?'

'When do you think he ever told her that before? The life is more than
she can bear. Yes, yes. He'll change it for her.'

'D'ye think it's done?' inquired old Arthur, peering into his
companion's face with half-closed eyes.

'I am sure it's done,' said Ralph. 'He is trying to deceive himself,
even before our eyes, already. He is making believe that he thinks
of her good and not his own. He is acting a virtuous part, and so
considerate and affectionate, sir, that the daughter scarcely knew him.
I saw a tear of surprise in her eye. There'll be a few more tears of
surprise there before long, though of a different kind. Oh! we may wait
with confidence for this day week.'

CHAPTER 48

Being for the Benefit of Mr Vincent Crummles, and positively his last
Appearance on this Stage

It was with a very sad and heavy heart, oppressed by many painful ideas,
that Nicholas retraced his steps eastward and betook himself to the
counting-house of Cheeryble Brothers. Whatever the idle hopes he had
suffered himself to entertain, whatever the pleasant visions which had
sprung up in his mind and grouped themselves round the fair image of
Madeline Bray, they were now dispelled, and not a vestige of their
gaiety and brightness remained.

It would be a poor compliment to Nicholas's better nature, and one which
he was very far from deserving, to insinuate that the solution, and such
a solution, of the mystery which had seemed to surround Madeline Bray,
when he was ignorant even of her name, had damped his ardour or cooled
the fervour of his admiration. If he had regarded her before, with
such a passion as young men attracted by mere beauty and elegance may
entertain, he was now conscious of much deeper and stronger feelings.
But, reverence for the truth and purity of her heart, respect for the
helplessness and loneliness of her s