"It seemed to me most delicate. You see, Clara, the matter stands

in this way. It is quite possible that I may soon find myself in a

completely new sphere of life, which will involve fresh duties and make

it impossible for me to keep up a household which Charles can share."

Clara stared. Did this mean that she was about to marry again? What else

could it point to?

"Therefore Charles must have a household of his own. That is obvious.

Now, I don't approve of bachelor establishments. Do you?"

"Really, Mrs. Westmacott, I have never thought of the matter."

"Oh, you little sly puss! Was there ever a girl who never thought of the

Advertisement..

matter? I think that a young man of six-and-twenty ought to be married."

Clara felt very uncomfortable. The awful thought had come upon her

that this ambassadress had come to her as a proxy with a proposal of

marriage. But how could that be? She had not spoken more than three or

four times with her nephew, and knew nothing more of him than he had

told her on the evening before. It was impossible, then. And yet what

could his aunt mean by this discussion of his private affairs?

"Do you not think yourself," she persisted, "that a young man of

six-and-twenty is better married?"

"I should think that he is old enough to decide for himself."

"Yes, yes. He has done so. But Charles is just a little shy, just a

little slow in expressing himself. I thought that I would pave the

way for him. Two women can arrange these things so much better. Men

sometimes have a difficulty in making themselves clear."

"I really hardly follow you, Mrs. Westmacott," cried Clara in despair.

"He has no profession. But he has nice tastes. He reads Browning every

night. And he is most amazingly strong. When he was younger we used to

put on the gloves together, but I cannot persuade him to now, for he

says he cannot play light enough. I should allow him five hundred, which

should be enough at first."

"My dear Mrs. Westmacott," cried Clara, "I assure you that I have not

the least idea what it is that you are talking of."

"Do you think your sister Ida would have my nephew Charles?"

Her sister Ida? Quite a little thrill of relief and of pleasure ran

through her at the thought. Ida and Charles Westmacott. She had never

thought of it. And yet they had been a good deal together. They had

played tennis. They had shared the tandem tricycle. Again came

the thrill of joy, and close at its heels the cold questionings of

conscience. Why this joy? What was the real source of it? Was it that

deep down, somewhere pushed back in the black recesses of the soul,

there was the thought lurking that if Charles prospered in his wooing

then Harold Denver would still be free? How mean, how unmaidenly, how

unsisterly the thought! She crushed it down and thrust it aside, but

still it would push up its wicked little head. She crimsoned with shame

at her own baseness, as she turned once more to her companion.




Most Popular