wishes and
good and bad qualities. I agree with you, heart and mind, in saying we
will never turn our backs on Clawbonny--dear, dear Clawbonny, where we
were children together, Miles; where we knew so well, and loved so well,
our departed Grace,--and, I hope and trust, it will ever be our principal
residence. The country-house I inherit from Mrs. Bradfort is better suited
to modern tastes and habits, perhaps, but it can never be one half so dear
to either of us. I would not speak to you on this subject before, Miles,
because I wished first to give you a husband's just control over me and
mine, in giving you my hand; but, now, I may and will suggest what has
been passing in my mind on this subject. Riversedge"--so was Mrs.
Bradfort's country-house called--"is a good residence, and is sufficiently
well furnished for any respectable family. Rupert and Emily must live
somewhere, and I feel certain it cannot long be in Broadway. Now, I have
thought I would reserve Riversedge for their future use. They can take it
immediately, as a summer residence; for I prize one hour passed here more
than twenty-four hours passed there."

"What, rebel!--Even should I choose to dwell in your West-Chester house?"

"You will be here, Miles; and it is on your account that Clawbonny is so
dear to me. The place is yours,--I am yours,--and all your possessions
should go together."

"Thank you, dearest. But will Rupert be able to keep up a town and country
house'!"

"The first, not long, for a certainty; how long, you know better than I.
When I have been your wife half-a-dozen years, perhaps you will think me
worthy of knowing the secret of the money he actually has."

This was said pleasantly; but it was not said without anxiety. I reflected
on the conditions of my secresy. Grace wished to keep the facts from Lucy,
lest the noble-hearted sister should awaken a feeling in the brother that
might prevent her bequest from being carried into effect. Then, she did
not think Lucy would ever become my wife, and circumstances were changed,
while there was no longer a reason for concealing the truth from the
present applicant, at least. I communicated all that had passed on the
subject to my-deeply-interested listener. Lucy received the facts with
sorrow, though they were no more than she had expected to learn.

"I should be covered with shame, were I to hear this from any other than
you, Miles," she answered, after a thoughtful pause; "but I know yo