Doctor Thorne

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The Rivals

  The intimacy between Frank and Miss Dunstable grew and prospered.That is to say, it prospered as an intimacy, though perhaps hardlyas a love affair. There was a continued succession of jokes betweenthem, which no one else in the castle understood; but the very factof there being such a good understanding between them rather stoodin the way of, than assisted, that consummation which the countessdesired. People, when they are in love with each other, or even whenthey pretend to be, do not generally show it by loud laughter. Nor isit frequently the case that a wife with two hundred thousand poundscan be won without some little preliminary despair. Now there was nodespair at all about Frank Gresham.

  Lady de Courcy, who thoroughly understood that portion of the worldin which she herself lived, saw that things were not going quite asthey should do, and gave much and repeated advice to Frank on thesubject. She was the more eager in doing this, because she imaginedFrank had done what he could to obey her first precepts. He had notturned up his nose at Miss Dunstable's curls, nor found fault withher loud voice: he had not objected to her as ugly, nor even shownany dislike to her age. A young man who had been so amenable toreason was worthy of further assistance; and so Lady de Courcy didwhat she could to assist him.

  "Frank, my dear boy," she would say, "you are a little too noisy, Ithink. I don't mean for myself, you know; I don't mind it. But MissDunstable would like it better if you were a little more quiet withher."

  "Would she, aunt?" said Frank, looking demurely up into thecountess's face. "I rather think she likes fun and noise, and thatsort of thing. You know she's not very quiet herself."

  "Ah!--but Frank, there are times, you know, when that sort of thingshould be laid aside. Fun, as you call it, is all very well in itsplace. Indeed, no one likes it better than I do. But that's not theway to show admiration. Young ladies like to be admired; and ifyou'll be a little more soft-mannered with Miss Dunstable, I'm sureyou'll find it will answer better."

  And so the old bird taught the young bird how to fly--veryneedlessly--for in this matter of flying, Nature gives her ownlessons thoroughly; and the ducklings will take the water, eventhough the maternal hen warn them against the perfidious elementnever so loudly.

  Soon after this, Lady de Courcy began to be not very well pleasedin the matter. She took it into her head that Miss Dunstable wassometimes almost inclined to laugh at her; and on one or twooccasions it almost seemed as though Frank was joining Miss Dunstablein doing so. The fact indeed was, that Miss Dunstable was fond offun; and, endowed as she was with all the privileges which twohundred thousand pounds may be supposed to give to a young lady,did not very much care at whom she laughed. She was able to make atolerably correct guess at Lady de Courcy's plan towards herself;but she did not for a moment think that Frank had any intentionof furthering his aunt's views. She was, therefore, not at allill-inclined to have her revenge on the countess.

  "How very fond your aunt is of you!" she said to him one wet morning,as he was sauntering through the house; now laughing, and almostromping with her--then teasing his sister about Mr Moffat--and thenbothering his lady-cousins out of all their propriety.

  "Oh, very!" said Frank: "she is a dear, good woman, is my Aunt deCourcy."

  "I declare she takes more notice of you and your doings than of anyof your cousins. I wonder they ain't jealous."

  "Oh! they're such good people. Bless me, they'd never be jealous."

  "You are so much younger than they are, that I suppose she thinks youwant more of her care."

  "Yes; that's it. You see she's fond of having a baby to nurse."

  "Tell me, Mr Gresham, what was it she was saying to you last night? Iknow we had been misbehaving ourselves dreadfully. It was all yourfault; you would make me laugh so."

  "That's just what I said to her."

  "She was talking about me, then?"

  "How on earth should she talk of any one else as long as you arehere? Don't you know that all the world is talking about you?"

  "Is it?--dear me, how kind! But I don't care a straw about any worldjust at present but Lady de Courcy's world. What did she say?"

  "She said you were very beautiful--"

  "Did she?--how good of her!"

  "No; I forgot. It--it was I that said that; and she said--what wasit she said? She said, that after all, beauty was but skin deep--andthat she valued you for your virtues and prudence rather than yourgood looks."

  "Virtues and prudence! She said I was prudent and virtuous?"

  "Yes."

  "And you talked of my beauty? That was so kind of you. You didn'teither of you say anything about other matters?"

  "What other matters?"

  "Oh! I don't know. Only some people are sometimes valued rather forwhat they've got than for any good qualities belonging to themselvesintrinsically."

  "That can never be the case with Miss Dunstable; especially not atCourcy Castle," said Frank, bowing easily from the corner of the sofaover which he was leaning.

  "Of course not," said Miss Dunstable; and Frank at once perceivedthat she spoke in a tone of voice differing much from thathalf-bantering, half-good-humoured manner that was customary withher. "Of course not: any such idea would be quite out of the questionwith Lady de Courcy." She paused for a moment, and then addedin a tone different again, and unlike any that he had yet heardfrom her:--"It is, at any rate, out of the question with Mr FrankGresham--of that I am quite sure."

  Frank ought to have understood her, and have appreciated the goodopinion which she intended to convey; but he did not entirely do so.He was hardly honest himself towards her; and he could not at firstperceive that she intended to say that she thought him so. He knewvery well that she was alluding to her own huge fortune, and wasalluding also to the fact that people of fashion sought her becauseof it; but he did not know that she intended to express a trueacquittal as regarded him of any such baseness.

  And did he deserve to be acquitted? Yes, upon the whole he did;--tobe acquitted of that special sin. His desire to make Miss Dunstabletemporarily subject to his sway arose, not from a hankering after herfortune, but from an ambition to get the better of a contest in whichother men around him seemed to be failing.

  For it must not be imagined that, with such a prize to be struggledfor, all others stood aloof and allowed him to have his own waywith the heiress, undisputed. The chance of a wife with two hundredthousand pounds is a godsend which comes in a man's life too seldomto be neglected, let that chance be never so remote.

  Frank was the heir to a large embarrassed property; and, therefore,the heads of families, putting their wisdoms together, had thought itmost meet that this daughter of Plutus should, if possible, fall tohis lot. But not so thought the Honourable George; and not so thoughtanother gentleman who was at that time an inmate of Courcy Castle.

  These suitors perhaps somewhat despised their young rival's efforts.It may be that they had sufficient worldly wisdom to know that soimportant a crisis of life is not settled among quips and jokes, andthat Frank was too much in jest to be in earnest. But be that as itmay, his love-making did not stand in the way of their love-making;nor his hopes, if he had any, in the way of their hopes.

  The Honourable George had discussed the matter with the HonourableJohn in a properly fraternal manner. It may be that John had alsoan eye to the heiress; but, if so, he had ceded his views to hisbrother's superior claims; for it came about that they understoodeach other very well, and John favoured George with salutary adviceon the occasion.

  "If it is to be done at all, it should be done very sharp," saidJohn.

  "As sharp as you like," said George. "I'm not the fellow to bestudying three months in what attitude I'll fall at a girl's feet."

  "No: and when you are there you mustn't take three months more tostudy how you'll get up again. If you do it at all, you must do itsharp," repeated John, putting great stress on his advice.

  "I have said a few soft words to her already, and she didn't seem to
take them badly," said George.

  "She's no chicken, you know," remarked John; "and with a woman likethat, beating about the bush never does any good. The chances are shewon't have you--that's of course; plums like that don't fall into aman's mouth merely for shaking the tree. But it's possible she may;and if she will, she's as likely to take you to-day as this day sixmonths. If I were you I'd write her a letter."

  "Write her a letter--eh?" said George, who did not altogether dislikethe advice, for it seemed to take from his shoulders the burden ofpreparing a spoken address. Though he was so glib in speaking aboutthe farmers' daughters, he felt that he should have some littledifficulty in making known his passion to Miss Dunstable by word ofmouth.

  "Yes; write a letter. If she'll take you at all, she'll take you thatway; half the matches going are made up by writing letters. Write hera letter and get it put on her dressing-table." George said that hewould, and so he did.

  George spoke quite truly when he hinted that he had said a few softthings to Miss Dunstable. Miss Dunstable, however, was accustomed tohear soft things. She had been carried much about in society amongfashionable people since, on the settlement of her father's will, shehad been pronounced heiress to all the ointment of Lebanon and manymen had made calculations respecting her similar to those which werenow animating the brain of the Honourable George de Courcy. She wasalready quite accustomed to being the target at which spendthriftsand the needy rich might shoot their arrows: accustomed to being shotat, and tolerably accustomed to protect herself without making scenesin the world, or rejecting the advantageous establishments offeredto her with any loud expressions of disdain. The Honourable George,therefore, had been permitted to say soft things very much as amatter of course.

  And very little more outward fracas arose from the correspondencewhich followed than had arisen from the soft things so said. Georgewrote the letter, and had it duly conveyed to Miss Dunstable'sbed-chamber. Miss Dunstable duly received it, and had her answerconveyed back discreetly to George's hands. The correspondence ran asfollows:--

  Courcy Castle, Aug. --, 185--.

  MY DEAREST MISS DUNSTABLE,

  I cannot but flatter myself that you must have perceived from my manner that you are not indifferent to me. Indeed, indeed, you are not. I may truly say, and swear [these last strong words had been put in by the special counsel of the Honourable John], that if ever a man loved a woman truly, I truly love you. You may think it very odd that I should say this in a letter instead of speaking it out before your face; but your powers of raillery are so great ["touch her up about her wit" had been the advice of the Honourable John] that I am all but afraid to encounter them. Dearest, dearest Martha--oh do not blame me for so addressing you!--if you will trust your happiness to me you shall never find that you have been deceived. My ambition shall be to make you shine in that circle which you are so well qualified to adorn, and to see you firmly fixed in that sphere of fashion for which all your tastes adapt you.

  I may safely assert--and I do assert it with my hand on my heart--that I am actuated by no mercenary motives. Far be it from me to marry any woman--no, not a princess--on account of her money. No marriage can be happy without mutual affection and I do fully trust--no, not trust, but hope--that there may be such between you and me, dearest Miss Dunstable. Whatever settlements you might propose, I should accede to. It is you, your sweet person, that I love, not your money.

  For myself, I need not remind you that I am the second son of my father; and that, as such, I hold no inconsiderable station in the world. My intention is to get into Parliament, and to make a name for myself, if I can, among those who shine in the House of Commons. My elder brother, Lord Porlock, is, you are aware, unmarried; and we all fear that the family honours are not likely to be perpetuated by him, as he has all manner of troublesome liaisons which will probably prevent his settling in life. There is nothing at all of that kind in my way. It will indeed be a delight to place a coronet on the head of my lovely Martha: a coronet which can give no fresh grace to her, but which will be so much adorned by her wearing it.

  Dearest Miss Dunstable, I shall wait with the utmost impatience for your answer; and now, burning with hope that it may not be altogether unfavourable to my love, I beg permission to sign myself--

  Your own most devoted,

  GEORGE DE COURCY.

  The ardent lover had not to wait long for an answer from hismistress. She found this letter on her toilet-table one night as shewent to bed. The next morning she came down to breakfast and met herswain with the most unconcerned air in the world; so much so thathe began to think, as he munched his toast with rather a shamefacedlook, that the letter on which so much was to depend had not yet comesafely to hand. But his suspense was not of a prolonged duration.After breakfast, as was his wont, he went out to the stables with hisbrother and Frank Gresham; and while there, Miss Dunstable's man,coming up to him, touched his hat, and put a letter into his hand.

  Frank, who knew the man, glanced at the letter and looked at hiscousin; but he said nothing. He was, however, a little jealous, andfelt that an injury was done to him by any correspondence betweenMiss Dunstable and his cousin George.

  Miss Dunstable's reply was as follows; and it may be remarked thatit was written in a very clear and well-penned hand, and one whichcertainly did not betray much emotion of the heart:--

  MY DEAR MR DE COURCY,

  I am sorry to say that I had not perceived from your manner that you entertained any peculiar feelings towards me; as, had I done so, I should at once have endeavoured to put an end to them. I am much flattered by the way in which you speak of me; but I am in too humble a position to return your affection and can, therefore, only express a hope that you may be soon able to eradicate it from your bosom. A letter is a very good way of making an offer, and as such I do not think it at all odd; but I certainly did not expect such an honour last night. As to my raillery, I trust it has never yet hurt you. I can assure you it never shall. I hope you will soon have a worthier ambition than that to which you allude; for I am well aware that no attempt will ever make me shine anywhere.

  I am quite sure you have had no mercenary motives: such motives in marriage are very base, and quite below your name and lineage. Any little fortune that I may have must be a matter of indifference to one who looks forward, as you do, to put a coronet on his wife's brow. Nevertheless, for the sake of the family, I trust that Lord Porlock, in spite of his obstacles, may live to do the same for a wife of his own some of these days. I am glad to hear that there is nothing to interfere with your own prospects of domestic felicity.

  Sincerely hoping that you may be perfectly successful in your proud ambition to shine in Parliament, and regretting extremely that I cannot share that ambition with you, I beg to subscribe myself, with very great respect,--

  Your sincere well-wisher,

  MARTHA DUNSTABLE.

  The Honourable George, with that modesty which so well became him,accepted Miss Dunstable's reply as a final answer to his littleproposition, and troubled her with no further courtship. As he saidto his brother John, no harm had been done, and he might have betterluck next time. But there was an inmate of Courcy Castle who wassomewhat more pertinacious in his search after love and wealth. Thiswas no other than Mr Moffat: a gentleman whose ambition was notsatisfied by the cares of his Barchester contest, or the possessionof one affianced bride.

  Mr Moffat was, as we have said, a man of wealth; but we all know,from the lessons of early youth, how the love of money increases andgains strength by its own success. Nor was he a man of so mean aspirit as to be satisfied with mere wealth. He desired also place andstation, and gracious countenance among the great ones of the earth.Hence had come his adherence to the de Courcys; hence his seat inParliament; and hence, also, his perhaps ill-considered match withMiss Gresham.

&nbs
p; There is no doubt but that the privilege of matrimony offersopportunities to money-loving young men which ought not to be lightlyabused. Too many young men marry without giving any consideration tothe matter whatever. It is not that they are indifferent to money,but that they recklessly miscalculate their own value, and omit tolook around and see how much is done by those who are more careful.A man can be young but once, and, except in cases of a specialinterposition of Providence, can marry but once. The chance oncethrown away may be said to be irrevocable! How, in after-life, domen toil and turmoil through long years to attain some prospect ofdoubtful advancement! Half that trouble, half that care, a tithe ofthat circumspection would, in early youth, have probably secured tothem the enduring comfort of a wife's wealth.

  You will see men labouring night and day to become bank directors;and even a bank direction may only be the road to ruin. Others willspend years in degrading subserviency to obtain a niche in a will;and the niche, when at last obtained and enjoyed, is but a sorrypayment for all that has been endured. Others, again, struggleharder still, and go through even deeper waters: they make wills forthemselves, forge stock-shares, and fight with unremitting, painfullabour to appear to be the thing that they are not. Now, in manyof these cases, all this might have been spared had the men madeadequate use of those opportunities which youth and youthful charmsafford once--and once only. There is no road to wealth so easy andrespectable as that of matrimony; that, is of course, provided thatthe aspirant declines the slow course of honest work. But then, wecan so seldom put old heads on young shoulders!

  In the case of Mr Moffat, we may perhaps say that a specimen wasproduced of this bird, so rare in the land. His shoulders werecertainly young, seeing that he was not yet six-and-twenty; buthis head had ever been old. From the moment when he was first putforth to go alone--at the age of twenty-one--his life had been onecalculation how he could make the most of himself. He had allowedhimself to be betrayed into no folly by an unguarded heart; noyouthful indiscretion had marred his prospects. He had made themost of himself. Without wit, or depth, or any mental gift--withouthonesty of purpose or industry for good work--he had been for twoyears sitting member for Barchester; was the guest of Lord de Courcy;was engaged to the eldest daughter of one of the best commoners'families in England; and was, when he first began to think of MissDunstable, sanguine that his re-election to Parliament was secure.

  When, however, at this period he began to calculate what his positionin the world really was, it occurred to him that he was doing anill-judged thing in marrying Miss Gresham. Why marry a pennilessgirl--for Augusta's trifle of a fortune was not a penny in hisestimation--while there was Miss Dunstable in the world to be won?His own six or seven thousand a year, quite unembarrassed as it was,was certainly a great thing; but what might he not do if to thathe could add the almost fabulous wealth of the great heiress? Wasshe not here, put absolutely in his path? Would it not be a wilfulthrowing away of a chance not to avail himself of it? He must, tobe sure, lose the de Courcy friendship; but if he should then havesecured his Barchester seat for the usual term of parliamentarysession, he might be able to spare that. He would also, perhaps,encounter some Gresham enmity: this was a point on which he did thinkmore than once: but what will not a man encounter for the sake of twohundred thousand pounds?

  It was thus that Mr Moffat argued with himself, with much prudence,and brought himself to resolve that he would at any rate become acandidate for the great prize. He also, therefore, began to saysoft things; and it must be admitted that he said them with moreconsiderate propriety than had the Honourable George. Mr Moffat hadan idea that Miss Dunstable was not a fool, and that in order tocatch her he must do more than endeavour to lay salt on her tail,in the guise of flattery. It was evident to him that she was a birdof some cunning, not to be caught by an ordinary gin, such as thosecommonly in use with the Honourable Georges of Society.

  It seemed to Mr Moffat, that though Miss Dunstable was so sprightly,so full of fun, and so ready to chatter on all subjects, she wellknew the value of her own money, and of her position as dependent onit: he perceived that she never flattered the countess, and seemedto be no whit absorbed by the titled grandeur of her host's family.He gave her credit, therefore, for an independent spirit: and anindependent spirit in his estimation was one that placed its soledependence on a respectable balance at its banker's.

  Working on these ideas, Mr Moffat commenced operations in such mannerthat his overtures to the heiress should not, if unsuccessful,interfere with the Greshamsbury engagement. He began by making commoncause with Miss Dunstable: their positions in the world, he said toher, were closely similar. They had both risen from the lower classby the strength of honest industry: they were both now wealthy, andhad both hitherto made such use of their wealth as to induce thehighest aristocracy of England to admit them into their circles.

  "Yes, Mr Moffat," had Miss Dunstable remarked; "and if all that Ihear be true, to admit you into their very families."

  At this Mr Moffat slightly demurred. He would not affect, he said,to misunderstand what Miss Dunstable meant. There had been somethingsaid on the probability of such an event; but he begged MissDunstable not to believe all that she heard on such subjects.

  "I do not believe much," said she; "but I certainly did think thatthat might be credited."

  Mr Moffat then went on to show how it behoved them both, in holdingout their hands half-way to meet the aristocratic overtures thatwere made to them, not to allow themselves to be made use of. Thearistocracy, according to Mr Moffat, were people of a very nicesort; the best acquaintance in the world; a portion of mankind to benoticed by whom should be one of the first objects in the life of theDunstables and the Moffats. But the Dunstables and Moffats should bevery careful to give little or nothing in return. Much, very much inreturn, would be looked for. The aristocracy, said Mr Moffat, werenot a people to allow the light of their countenance to shine forthwithout looking for a _quid pro quo_, for some compensating value.In all their intercourse with the Dunstables and Moffats, they wouldexpect a payment. It was for the Dunstables and Moffats to see that,at any rate, they did not pay more for the article they got than itsmarket value.

  The way in which she, Miss Dunstable, and he, Mr Moffat, would berequired to pay would be by taking each of them some poor scion ofthe aristocracy in marriage; and thus expending their hard-earnedwealth in procuring high-priced pleasures for some well-born pauper.Against this, peculiar caution was to be used. Of course, the furtherinduction to be shown was this: that people so circumstanced shouldmarry among themselves; the Dunstables and the Moffats each with theother, and not tumble into the pitfalls prepared for them.

  Whether these great lessons had any lasting effect on MissDunstable's mind may be doubted. Perhaps she had already made up hermind on the subject which Mr Moffat so well discussed. She was olderthan Mr Moffat, and, in spite of his two years of parliamentaryexperience, had perhaps more knowledge of the world with which shehad to deal. But she listened to what he said with complacency;understood his object as well as she had that of his aristocraticrival; was no whit offended; but groaned in her spirit as she thoughtof the wrongs of Augusta Gresham.

  But all this good advice, however, would not win the money for MrMoffat without some more decided step; and that step he soon decidedon taking, feeling assured that what he had said would have its dueweight with the heiress.

  The party at Courcy Castle was now soon about to be broken up. Themale de Courcys were going down to a Scotch mountain. The female deCourcys were to be shipped off to an Irish castle. Mr Moffat was togo up to town to prepare his petition. Miss Dunstable was again aboutto start on a foreign tour in behalf of her physician and attendants;and Frank Gresham was at last to be allowed to go to Cambridge; thatis to say, unless his success with Miss Dunstable should render sucha step on his part quite preposterous.

  "I think you may speak now, Frank," said the countess. "I reallythink you may: you have known her now for a considerable time; and,as f
ar as I can judge, she is very fond of you."

  "Nonsense, aunt," said Frank; "she doesn't care a button for me."

  "I think differently; and lookers-on, you know, always understand thegame best. I suppose you are not afraid to ask her."

  "Afraid!" said Frank, in a tone of considerable scorn. He almost madeup his mind that he would ask her to show that he was not afraid.His only obstacle to doing so was, that he had not the slightestintention of marrying her.

  There was to be but one other great event before the party broke up,and that was a dinner at the Duke of Omnium's. The duke had alreadydeclined to come to Courcy; but he had in a measure atoned for thisby asking some of the guests to join a great dinner which he wasabout to give to his neighbours.

  Mr Moffat was to leave Courcy Castle the day after the dinner-party,and he therefore determined to make his great attempt on the morningof that day. It was with some difficulty that he brought about anopportunity; but at last he did so, and found himself alone with MissDunstable in the walks of Courcy Park.

  "It is a strange thing, is it not," said he, recurring to his oldview of the same subject, "that I should be going to dine with theDuke of Omnium--the richest man, they say, among the whole Englisharistocracy?"

  "Men of that kind entertain everybody, I believe, now and then," saidMiss Dunstable, not very civilly.

  "I believe they do; but I am not going as one of the everybodies.I am going from Lord de Courcy's house with some of his own family.I have no pride in that--not the least; I have more pride in myfather's honest industry. But it shows what money does in thiscountry of ours."

  "Yes, indeed; money does a great deal many queer things." In sayingthis Miss Dunstable could not but think that money had done a veryqueer thing in inducing Miss Gresham to fall in love with Mr Moffat.

  "Yes; wealth is very powerful: here we are, Miss Dunstable, the mosthonoured guests in the house."

  "Oh! I don't know about that; you may be, for you are a member ofParliament, and all that--"

  "No; not a member now, Miss Dunstable."

  "Well, you will be, and that's all the same; but I have no such titleto honour, thank God."

  They walked on in silence for a little while, for Mr Moffat hardlyknew how to manage the business he had in hand. "It is quitedelightful to watch these people," he said at last; "now they accuseus of being tuft-hunters."

  "Do they?" said Miss Dunstable. "Upon my word I didn't know thatanybody ever so accused me."

  "I didn't mean you and me personally."

  "Oh! I'm glad of that."

  "But that is what the world says of persons of our class. Now itseems to me that the toadying is all on the other side. The countesshere does toady you, and so do the young ladies."

  "Do they? if so, upon my word I didn't know it. But, to tell thetruth, I don't think much of such things. I live mostly to myself, MrMoffat."

  "I see that you do, and I admire you for it; but, Miss Dunstable, youcannot always live so," and Mr Moffat looked at her in a manner whichgave her the first intimation of his coming burst of tenderness.

  "That's as may be, Mr Moffat," said she.

  He went on beating about the bush for some time--giving her tounderstand how necessary it was that persons situated as they wereshould live either for themselves or for each other, and that,above all things, they should beware of falling into the mouths ofvoracious aristocratic lions who go about looking for prey--till theycame to a turn in the grounds; at which Miss Dunstable declared herdetermination of going in. She had walked enough, she said. As bythis time Mr Moffat's immediate intentions were becoming visible shethought it prudent to retire. "Don't let me take you in, Mr Moffat;but my boots are a little damp, and Dr Easyman will never forgive meif I do not hurry in as fast as I can."

  "Your feet damp?--I hope not: I do hope not," said he, with a look ofthe greatest solicitude.

  "Oh! it's nothing to signify; but it's well to be prudent, you know.Good morning, Mr Moffat."

  "Miss Dunstable!"

  "Eh--yes!" and Miss Dunstable stopped in the grand path. "I won't letyou return with me, Mr Moffat, because I know you were not coming inso soon."

  "Miss Dunstable; I shall be leaving this to-morrow."

  "Yes; and I go myself the day after."

  "I know it. I am going to town and you are going abroad. It may belong--very long--before we meet again."

  "About Easter," said Miss Dunstable; "that is, if the doctor doesn'tknock up on the road."

  "And I had, had wished to say something before we part for so long atime. Miss Dunstable--"

  "Stop!--Mr Moffat. Let me ask you one question. I'll hear anythingthat you have got to say, but on one condition: that is, that MissAugusta Gresham shall be by while you say it. Will you consent tothat?"

  "Miss Augusta Gresham," said he, "has no right to listen to myprivate conversation."

  "Has she not, Mr Moffat? then I think she should have. I, at anyrate, will not so far interfere with what I look on as her undoubtedprivileges as to be a party to any secret in which she may notparticipate."

  "But, Miss Dunstable--"

  "And to tell you fairly, Mr Moffat, any secret that you do tell me, Ishall most undoubtedly repeat to her before dinner. Good morning, MrMoffat; my feet are certainly a little damp, and if I stay a momentlonger, Dr Easyman will put off my foreign trip for at least a week."And so she left him standing alone in the middle of the gravel-walk.

  For a moment or two, Mr Moffat consoled himself in his misfortune bythinking how he might best avenge himself on Miss Dunstable. Soon,however, such futile ideas left his brain. Why should he give overthe chase because the rich galleon had escaped him on this, hisfirst cruise in pursuit of her? Such prizes were not to be won soeasily. Her present objection clearly consisted in his engagement toMiss Gresham, and in that only. Let that engagement be at an end,notoriously and publicly broken off, and this objection would fall tothe ground. Yes; ships so richly freighted were not to be run downin one summer morning's plain sailing. Instead of looking for hisrevenge on Miss Dunstable, it would be more prudent in him--more inkeeping with his character--to pursue his object, and overcome suchdifficulties as he might find in his way.