ft school for good; "Arabella," said he, "Mrs. -------,"
naming the head teacher in that famous school, "pays you a very high
compliment in a letter I received from her this morning. She says it is
a pity you are not a poor man's daughter--that you are so steady and so
clever that you could make a fortune for yourself as a teacher."

Arabella at that age could smile gaily, and gaily she smiled at the
notion conveyed in the compliment.

"No one can guess," resumed the father, twirling his thumbs and speaking
rather through his nose; "the ups and downs in this mortal sphere of
trial, 'specially in the mercantile community. If ever, when I'm dead
and gone, adversity should come upon you, you will gratefully remember
that I have given you the best of education, and take care of your
little brother and sister, who are both--stupid!"

These doleful words did not make much impression on Arabella, uttered as
they were in a handsome drawing-room, opening on the neat-shaven lawn
it took three gardeners to shave, with a glittering side-view of those
galleries of glass in which strawberries were ripe at Christmas,
and cucumbers never failed to fish. Time--went on. Arabella was now
twenty-three--a very fine girl, with a decided manner--much occupied by
her music, her drawing, her books, and her fancies. Fancies--for, like
most girls with very active heads and idle hearts, she had a vague
yearning for some excitement beyond the monotonous routine of a young
lady's life; and the latent force of her nature inclined her to admire
whatever was out of the beaten track--whatever was wild and daring.
She had received two or three offers from young gentlemen in the same
mercantile community as that which surrounded her father in this sphere
of trial. But they did not please her; and she believed her father when
he said that they only courted her under the idea that he would come
down with something handsome; "whereas," said the merchant, "I hope you
will marry an honest man, who will like you for yourself; and wait for
your fortune till my will is read. As King William says to his son, in
the History of England, 'I don't mean to strip till I go to bed.'"

One night, at a ball in Clapham, Arabella saw the man who was destined
to exercise so baleful an influence over her existence. Jasper Losely
had been brought to this ball by a young fellow-clerk in the same
commercial house as himself; and then in all the bloom of that
conspicuous beauty