rs of a
new Amelius. His habits are changed; his social position is in course of
development. Already, he is a strict economist. Before long, he expects
to become a married man.

It is good to be economical: it is, perhaps, better still to be the
accepted husband of a handsome young woman. But, for all that, a man
in a state of moral improvement, with prospects which his less favoured
fellow creatures may reasonably envy, is still a man subject to the
mischievous mercy of circumstances, and capable of feeling it keenly.
The face of the new Amelius wore an expression of anxiety, and, more
remarkable yet, the temper of the new Amelius was out of order.

For the first time in his life he found himself considering trivial
questions of sixpences, and small favours of discount for cash
payments--an irritating state of things in itself. There were more
serious anxieties, however, to trouble him than these. He had no reason
to complain of the beloved object herself. Not twelve hours since he
had said to Regina, with a voice that faltered, and a heart that beat
wildly, "Are you fond enough of me to let me marry you?" And she had
answered placidly, with a heart that would have satisfied the most
exacting stethoscope in the medical profession, "Yes, if you like."
There was a moment of rapture, when she submitted for the first time to
be kissed, and when she consented, on being gently reminded that it was
expected of her, to return the kiss--once, and no more. But there was
also an attendant train of serious considerations which followed on the
heels of Amelius when the kissing was over, and when he had said goodbye
for the day.

He had two women for enemies, both resolutely against him in the matter
of his marriage.

Regina's correspondent and bosom friend, Cecilia, who had begun by
disliking him, without knowing why, persisted in maintaining her
unfavourable opinion of the new friend of the Farnabys. She was a young
married woman; and she had an influence over Regina which promised, when
the fit opportunity came, to make itself felt. The second, and by far
the more powerful hostile influence, was the influence of Mrs. Farnaby.
Nothing could exceed the half sisterly, half motherly, goodwill with
which she received Amelius on those rare occasions when they happened
to meet, unembarrassed by the presence of a third person in the room.
Without actually reverting to what had passed between them during their
memorable interview, M