take
to himself such a little angel as you are," and as he spoke these
loving words, his arm was again put round her waist; "but--" and then
he stopped. He wanted to make her understand that this change of
intention on his part was caused by the unexpected misconduct of her
uncle. He desired that she should know exactly how the matter stood;
that he had been led to suppose that her uncle would give her some
small fortune, that he had been disappointed, and had a right to feel
the disappointment keenly; and that in consequence of this blow to
his expectations, he must put off his marriage. But he wished her
also to understand at the same time that this did not in the least
mar his love for her; that he did not join her at all in her uncle's
fault. All this he was anxious to convey to her, but he did not know
how to get it said in a manner that would not be offensive to her
personally, and that should not appear to accuse himself of sordid
motives. He had begun by declaring that he would tell her all; but
sometimes it is not easy, that task of telling a person everything.
There are things which will not get themselves told.

"You mean, dearest," said she, "that you cannot afford to marry at
once."

"Yes; that is it. I had expected that I should be able, but--"

Did any man in love ever yet find himself able to tell the lady whom
he loved that he was very much disappointed on discovering that she
had got no money? If so, his courage, I should say, was greater than
his love. Crosbie found himself unable to do it, and thought himself
cruelly used because of the difficulty. The delay to which he
intended to subject her was occasioned, as he felt, by the squire,
and not by himself. He was ready to do his part, if only the squire
had been willing to do the part which properly belonged to him. The
squire would not; and, therefore, neither could he,--not as yet.
Justice demanded that all this should be understood; but when he came
to the telling of it, he found that the story would not form itself
properly. He must let the thing go, and bear the injustice, consoling
himself as best he might by the reflection that he at least was
behaving well in the matter.

"It won't make me unhappy, Adolphus."

"Will it not?" said he. "As regards myself, I own that I cannot bear
the delay with so much indifference."

"Nay, my love; but you should not misunderstand me," she said,
stopping and facing him on the path in which they were wa