Mr. Wrybolt all geniality and apt
suggestiveness. As the colloquy went on, a certain change appeared in
the man's look and voice; he visibly softened, he moved his chair a
little nearer, and all at once, before Mrs. Woolstan had had time to
reflect upon these symptoms, Wrybolt was holding her hand and making
her an offer of marriage.

Never was woman more genuinely surprised. That this prosperous
financier, who had already made one advantageous marriage and might
probably, if he wished, wed a second fortune--that such a man as Mr.
Wrybolt would think of _her_ for his wife, was a thing which had never
entered her imagination. She was fluttered, and flattered, and pleased,
but not for a moment did she think of accepting him. Her eyes fell, in
demurest sadness. Never, never could she marry again; the past was
always with her, and the future imposed upon her the most solemn of
duties. She lived for the memory of her husband and for the prospects
of her child. Naturally, Mr. Wrybolt turned at first an incredulous
ear; he urged his suit, simply and directly, with persuasion derived
partly from the realm of sentiment, partly from Lombard Street--the
latter sounding the more specious. But Mrs. Woolstan betrayed no sign
of wavering; in truth, the more Wrybolt pleaded, the firmer she grew in
her resolve of refusal. When decency compelled the man to withdraw, he
was very warm of countenance and lobster-hued at the back of his neck;
an impartial observer would have thought him secretly in a towering
rage. His leave-taking was laconic, though he did his best to smile.

Of course Mrs. Woolstan soon sat down to write him a letter, in which
she begged him to believe how grateful she was, how much honoured by
his proposal and how deeply distressed at not being able to accept it.
Surely this would make no difference between them? Of course they would
be friends as ever--nay, more than ever? She could never forget his
nobly generous impulse. But let him reflect on her broken life, her
immutable sadness; he would understand how much she would have wronged
such a man as he in taking advantage of that moment's heroic weakness.
To this effusive epistle came speedily a brief response. Of course all
was as before, wrote Wrybolt. He was wholly at her service, and would
do anything she wished in the matter of her money. By all means let her
send him full particulars in writing, and he would lose no time; the
yield of her capital might probably