then he took his leave.

"Why did I never think of this before? I don't believe there ever was
such a fool in this world," he said to himself, as he mounted his horse
and rode off. "Of course, if I were driven to it, Emily would be fifty
times more suitable for me than that calm blond spinster. Liberty is
sweet, however, and I will not do it if I can help it. The worst of it
is, that Emily, of all the women of my acquaintance, is the only one who
does not care one straw about me. There's no hurry--I fancy myself
making her an offer, and getting laughed at for my pains." Then John
Mortimer amused himself with recollections of poor Fred Walker's wooing,
how ridiculous he had made himself, and how she had laughed at him, and
yet, out of mere sweetness of nature, taken him. "It's not in her to be
in love with any man," he reflected; "and I suppose it's not in me to be
in love with any woman. So far at least we might meet on equal ground."

In the meantime, Dorothea was cosily resting on the sofa in her
dressing-room, her husband was with her, and St. George Mortimer
Brandon,--the latter as quiet as possible in his cot, now nobody cared
whether his behaviour did him credit or not.

"Love," she said, "do you know I shouldn't be at all surprised if John
Mortimer has made Justina an offer, and she has refused him."

"_I_ should be very much surprised, indeed," said Brandon, laughing; "I
think highly of his good sense--and of hers, for both which reasons I
feel sure, my darling, that he has not made her an offer, and she has
not refused him."

"But I am almost sure he has," proceeded Dorothea, "otherwise I should
be obliged to think that the kind of things she said to-day were not
quite fair."

"What did she say?"

Dorothea told him.

"I do not think that amounts to much," said Brandon.

"Oh then you think he never did ask her? I hope and trust you are
right."

"Why do you hope and trust, Mrs. Brandon? What can it signify to you?"
Then, when she made no answer, he went on. "To be sure that would make
it highly natural that he should be glad at the prospect of her
absenting herself."

"I was just thinking so. Did not he speak well, St. George."

"He did; you were wishing all the time that I could speak as well!"

"Just as if you did not speak twice as well! Besides, you have a much
finer voice. I like so much to hear you when you get excited."

"Ah! that is the thing. I have taken great pains to learn the art of