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FOR GASH ONLY.
““T must look at things for a little with my
own eyes,”, was the o ly’3 conclusion,
‘‘before giving you any definite opinion. But
_ I think you may trust to me, at all events, as | _
to business matters.” ., :
If Miss Darrell had a weakness, it was the con-
viction that she was a ‘‘woman of business,”
and it must be allowed that she had some cause
for it.. Asa general rule, I have noticed that
the ladies who have acquired this, reputation
derive it from their lawyers, and that it is con-
ferred on account of the number of letters the
said clients write. to them, each of which de-
mands a reply—price six and eightpence. _ Miss
Darrell -had had little or, nothing~to do with].
lawyers; but she had a very accurate knowledge
of finances, and. consciousness of the value of
money, which, to persons of. sentiment would
perhaps -have, seemed incompatible with a
generous and simple nature. . She would have
given the very shawl off her back, in the bitter-
est of winter weather, to any one she loved, had
such a sacrifice been required; but she under-
stood the comfort of clothing, and specially the
exceeding discomfort arising from its insuffi-
ciency. Her. sense of the evils of poverty,
quickened: by long experience, was in no way
dulled by her present prosperity, and, curiously
enough, it indirectly led her. to be Gerald's
apologist. Clare had told her, not in the way
of complaint of him, but in explanation of that
- want of sympathy with her half-brother of which
she had accused. herself, and deplored, how he
had come on the very day of her father’s funeral
to congratulate her upon being his heiress. .‘‘ It
seemed to me so sadly ill-timed,” she said, ‘¢and
altogether unsuitable, that Iam afraid it rather
set me against him.” “3 .
‘*Then I don’t think it should have done so,”
said the old lady, bluntly. , ‘It is a matter. of
very great congratulation thet. you are left in-
dependent of all money cares. Every other
kind of trouble is healed by time, but those en-
dure forever. : It is only those who haye not felt
it who underrate the pinch of poverty. When
sorrow such as yours, overtakes us, it seems
forthetime that nothing else is worth thinking
about; but if narrow or insufficient means ac-
comyany it, we lrave soon to think of how to
make them go as far as. possible, to the utter-
most, to stretch what is not elastic. Our sor-
row, which seemed something divine and eter-
nal, is then quenched in sordid cares; but it .is
a very miserable way of getting rid of it. Dear
Clare,” continued the old woman, speaking with
energy, “I had once a free and independent
spirit like yourself. Thank Heaven, it has been
restored to me;.but I shall never forget what it
_ cost me, and how I lost it... The shifts I have
been put to, the wretched scrapings and hoard-
ings, the adding of not house to house and field
to field, but of shilling to shilling—tiese things,
not to mention the necessity of holdmg one’s
hand when Pity cried, .‘Give, . give,’ are not
easily forgotten; but, bitterest of all, and the
remembrance of which can never fade, are the
slights and contumelies that Poverty compels
us to submit to; the hypocrisies it forces upon
us; the bated breath, when we should speak
out; the bended knee, when .we should stand
upright; the-——” oo :
She stopped suddenly, quivering with emotion |
‘*No matter, dear; all that is past and gone.
Where were we? Talking of Gerald—true.
Well, I think he was quite right to congratu-
late you.” ‘ : Doe
‘ET have forgotten him, I am sure. .. Indeed,
your words have put his own in quite a different
light... It was the inopportuneness of the time,
I think, that struck me. Percy, for example,
never dreamed of alluding to money matters.”
“Indeed.” The tone of this remark was
what wine-merchants term. ‘‘extra dry.” «I
supppose it is the privilege of engaged young
Jadies to know what their lovers dream about.”
“T mean,” said Clare, with a quick flush,
“that Perey has too:much good taste and
delicacy. of mind to have thought. of, such
- things at such a time, much less to have talked
about them.”
‘«And Herbert?” .
‘And, of course, Herbert too. Indeed, at
20 time does Herbert’ much concern.himself
with pecuniary matters. He i3 consideration
and kindness itself, and there is no one—no
one—of whom dear papa had a higher opin-
ion.” ~
‘*He always gave me the impression of be-
ing a very sensible young man,” said Miss Dar-
rel, quietly. ‘*Though he takes nothing under
your father’s will, it seems, the continuation of
partnership with Sir Peter. must be of great
advantage to him, since he has money in the
business.” - i :
. “IT suppose so; I’m sure I hope so.”
“But surely you must know. °-I under-
stood that the, year’s profits would be enor-|°
mous,” :
“So it is expected; but Mr. Oldcastle took
great pains to point out to me that that was
but a contingency... Iam afraid I did not give
him my whole attention, but be hinted that
things might possibly go the other way.” .
“* You mean that the firm might have losses
instead of gains, for which your father’s estate
would be responsible.” . , :
““Yes;-and in. that, case, as I understood
him, there would be very little left for poor
Gerald to quarrel about.” , ‘
“Then there can be nothing but what is in
the business—no savings,” suggested Miss Dar-
rell, thoughtfully. .
“T suppose not; at all events very little,
and Mr.. Oldcastle even spoke of a deficit.
There may be liabilities; he said something
about an unlimited company.”
“But, my darling, that is most important,”
put in the lady, earnestly; ‘it may mean
ruin.”
‘*You had better talk to Mr. Oldcastle your-
gelf,” said Clare, wearily.. ‘*Oh dear! oh dear!
this money—it has set Gerald against me al-
ready, you see.”
*<Yes, it’s the root of all evil,” assented the
old lady; ‘but -there’s one thing worse, my
dear, than money—and that is, the want of it.
How’s Sir Peter?”
‘“*T believe he is as well as usual,” said Clare,
coldly. - . .
** Ah! so I should suppose, and in his usual
spirits, I should think he was a man who could
bear to lose his friends with a great deal of phi-
losophy.” :
“T don’t think Sir Peter was ever a friend of
papa, though he was his partner.” ,
‘Indeed. That is what seems to me a risk
in partnership that’ is not duly considered. If
there is a common bond of sympathy, well and
good; indeed, nothing could be more pleasant;
but if the bond is only one of interest, it must
become very irksome. It is almost as great a
lottery as marriage.” :
“You don't fall in love with your partner,
however, .before entering with him into busi-
ness,” said Clare, smiling (for the first time for
many a day) at the old lady’s seriousness.
“‘No; you do that with your eyes open, which
is so far an advantage. I am vot speaking of
your case, my dear, of ‘course; you have known
Percy Fibbert all his life; it is not a matter of
love at first sight—taking a house to live in all
your life, as it were, without inquiries, just be-
cause it looks well from the railroad.” - *
‘But I did love Percy at first sight,” smiled
Clare. ‘* You will forgive me, my dear Nannie,
for saying that‘this is one of the few things you
don’t undetstand.” ole
‘*No doubt, my dear,” answered the old lady,
simply. ‘‘It’s a mystery to spinsters. I have
never loved anybody till I felt. so to speak, justi-
fied in so doing. I like to have something to go
upon. Love seems to me like ice, and one ought
to try whether it will bear or not before one
ventures.” | o ‘ :
Clare laughed again, and this time quite mer-
rily. : : ‘
‘Love is not at all like ice, I do assure you,
Nanne.” . | a .
‘ By-the-bye, talking of ice,” said the old
lady, ‘‘ how is your friend Mildred?” .
Clare’s face grew very graye. ‘She is quite
well, I believe: I have not seen much of her
lately.” ~ :
_ ‘Ah! she is not one, I should imagine, who
agrees with Solomon that it is better to come
‘0 the house of mourning than to that of feast-
ing.” . . :
“i Nee Pe ee me tener
Preemie ae
“Ido not say she has been inattentive, but
the fact is, we are not very sympathetic.”
“ You don’t like the same things or the same
eople.” eens 2
Clare felt the color glowing in her cheeks,
though she would have given words to hide it
from the other’s scrutinizing glance. :
“We have not the same tastes in any way,”
she answered, quietly, ‘‘andI don’t think Mil-
dred likes me.” * . . .
“That is unfortunate, since you are going to
marry into the family.” '° oF
‘* Yes, it isso: one has misfortunes, you see,”
she added, with a ghost of asmile, ‘‘even though
one is an heiress.” °° . .
The old lady nodded and went on with her
needle-work (she was always armed with a nee-
dle and thread, being constitutionally unable to
sit idle for five minutes). Then the conversa-
tion grew more desultory, and she refrained
from asking any more questions. She had al-
ready possessed herself generally of the map of
the country with respect to her young friend’s
affairs. The by-paths, she flattered herself, she
should presently discover for herself
+
CHAPTER XXIL
CHECK AND COUNTER-CUECK.
Tuovcu Percy Fibbert’s last interview with
Clare had not been wholly satisfactory, his con-
duct had betrayed no sign of it; his temper, to
say the truth, was not of the best, and when
once let loose was one of the worst, but he had
great control over it. You would never have
guessed, to see him in the presence of his’ be-
trothed with that smiling air of his, and only an
occasional sigh to show her how cruelly she
was treating him, what a volcano of impatience
was raging within him; how he despised all
that affectation of affection and regret which
seemed to find relief in procrastination, and was
only one degree less contemptible in his eyes
than prudery itself.
Perhaps if he could have told her all, Clare
would have named some reasonably early
date for their union, but all he dared, not tell
her; and mere passionate pleading was not
only of no avail in her case, but might de-
feat its.object. . He suspected, indeed, what
was’ the fact, that any importunity would
have quickened the sense of remorse she en-
tertained in acting counter to the wishes of
her father, notwithstanding that consent had
been wrung from him. Every week’s delay would,
he knew, give Mildred hopes of his marriage be-
ing broken off, and thus make matters more un-
pleasant in the end, while it would give opportun-
ity for examination into the state of Mr. Lys-
ter’s affairs, which he conjectured were anything
but prosperous—a disclosure which would once
more place Sir Peter in opposition. It was cred-
itable, therefore, to Percy's self-restraint ‘that
he came daily to Oak Lodge to play the part of
a sympatbizing friend rather than that of a
lover. He had, however, another reason for
his visits, in keeping up an intimacy with Mr.
Oldcastle,’ who was now, constantly at’ the
house on business, and who, in spite of Gerald’s
voluntary offer of assistance, was much less
confidential with him than with Percy. Clare’s
coldness whetted his passion, or some of the
lawyer's reyelations might have cooled, it, for
the young man had as keen an‘eye to the main
chance as his uncle, though he pursued it un-
der other conditions... He liked risks—that is,
the gambler’s ‘perfect certainties "—for its
own sake;! and when hé. had once promised
anything (to himself) was most honorably
resolute to keep his word. . Thus it hap-
pened that when Mr. Oldcastle pointed out that
Mr. Lyster's affairs were not only bad in them-
selves, but were involved in certain, or rather
uncertain, contingencies, Percy received the in-
formation with considerable philosophy. | If an
investment was in an unlimited company, then
it must be got out of it; N a security was shaky,
it must be disposed of for what it would feteh—
advice it was easier to offer than to put into
effect. At the same time, Mr. Oldcastle felt
that it was good advice, snd “knowing ‘that
Percy was fully aware of the danger to which
the estate was exposed, became more favorably
disposed toward the young man for making