Mrs. Westmacott's great meeting for the enfranchisement of woman had

passed over, and it had been a triumphant success. All the maids and

matrons of the southern suburbs had rallied at her summons, there was an

influential platform with Dr. Balthazar Walker in the chair, and Admiral

Hay Denver among his more prominent supporters. One benighted male had

come in from the outside darkness and had jeered from the further end

of the hall, but he had been called to order by the chair, petrified

by indignant glances from the unenfranchised around him, and finally

escorted to the door by Charles Westmacott. Fiery resolutions were

passed, to be forwarded to a large number of leading statesmen, and the

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meeting broke up with the conviction that a shrewd blow had been struck

for the cause of woman.

But there was one woman at least to whom the meeting and all that

was connected with it had brought anything but pleasure. Clara Walker

watched with a heavy heart the friendship and close intimacy which had

sprung up between her father and the widow. From week to week it had

increased until no day ever passed without their being together. The

coming meeting had been the excuse for these continual interviews, but

now the meeting was over, and still the Doctor would refer every point

which rose to the judgment of his neighbor. He would talk, too, to his

two daughters of her strength of character, her decisive mind, and of

the necessity of their cultivating her acquaintance and following

her example, until at last it had become his most common topic of

conversation.

All this might have passed as merely the natural pleasure which an

elderly man might take in the society of an intelligent and handsome

woman, but there were other points which seemed to Clara to give it a

deeper meaning. She could not forget that when Charles Westmacott had

spoken to her one night he had alluded to the possibility of his aunt

marrying again. He must have known or noticed something before he would

speak upon such a subject. And then again Mrs. Westmacott had herself

said that she hoped to change her style of living shortly and take over

completely new duties. What could that mean except that she expected to

marry? And whom? She seemed to see few friends outside their own little

circle. She must have alluded to her father. It was a hateful thought,

and yet it must be faced.

One evening the Doctor had been rather late at his neighbor's. He used

to go into the Admiral's after dinner, but now he turned more frequently

in the other direction. When he returned Clara was sitting alone in the

drawing-room reading a magazine. She sprang up as he entered, pushed

forward his chair, and ran to fetch his slippers.




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