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Barker, for instance, had trusted more to her lawyer, and less to her own wisdom But it doesn't signify much now, and it is all the better for you after all. But, however, I needn't say, Priscilla, that I shall always be delighted to be of any use to you. Don't speak of trouble," continued Mr. Dixon heartily, as Miss Brown again made some apologetic murmur. "It's no trouble; it's a pleasure to me to do anything for you. Of course you will require a good deal of advice, being, as you say, so unused to these matters; and though Finch is a capital man of business - you couldn't have your affairs in better hands -still, there are many little things that you might like to have a friends opinion about, and you must apply to me, you know. I'm always at your service. Why, we've been good friends all our lives, you and I, and it would be odd if I weren't ready and happy to be of the least use to you.' And then Mr. Dixon looked at his watch, and shook hands cordially with her and hastened away to his business; not dreaming that he was leaving his cousin just at the moment when he might have been of use to her, and when she really wanted him. But she had taken up so much of his valuable time already, that she did not like to detain him longer, when he seemed in a hurry. After he was gone, however, she sat and tried hard, but hopelessly, to think over and understand all she had been told. There was one thing in particular which she puzzled over in vain perplexity. Mrs. Barker had made her own will, instead of employing a law-| yer to do it for her. This Miss Brown easily understood was a serious folly and misdemeanour on Mrs. Barker's part, and such as she herself would never have dreamed of committing. Still, the will was acknowledged to be a perfectly valid one. What was wrong, then? Why should Mr. Finch and Mr. Dixon have looked at each other, and said something to one another about a "previous settlement" and "natural heirs?" Why should Mr. Dixon have said: "I can explain it all to Miss Brown if she likes, but it makes no difference, you know? It doesn't interfere with the perfect validity of the will, and with her rights." What was there more to explain? Poor Miss Brown's head was already buzzing with all the explanations she had had to listen to explanations which seemed to her to explain so little. Was there anything else which she had failed to understand properly?

"I wish Robert could have staid; I would have asked him what it was. Only

I am so stupid; I know so little about these things. I wish I were cleverer.”

Robert had said she was quite clever enough for a woman. She was not sure, though, if she was quite satisfied with the compliment; she was not sure, when she came to think ahout it, if she wished to be satisfied or not.

CHAPTER V.

As it happened, Miss Brown had no opportunity for talking to Mr. Dixon about her affairs for some time after this. She saw her lawyer, of course, as often as she wished; but he was almost a stranger to her; personally, his manner was formal and cold, and she was often shy and flurried, and afraid of showing her ignorance, and want of comprehension of his involved explanations. Therefore, the secret perplexity in her own mind about Mrs. Barker's will was not set at rest, and by degrees she got to think that as Mr. Finch saw no difficulty in the matter, it must be all her own fancy or her own mistake; and that there could really be nothing to explain to her which had not been fully explained already-if only she were not so stupid. So she held her tongue, and gradually her little uneasiness died away, and she was able to take possession of and enter into the enjoyment of her fortune with an undisturbed mind.

And her enjoyment was very great. In her case, fortune had not come when she was past being able to take pleasure in it. She was by no means this. It was delightful to wake in the night and to remember that she was mistress of fifteen hundred a year; and so, with a murmured thanksgiving, to fall asleep again in that happy security of peace and comfort for the rest of her life. It was delightful to lie thinking in the morning before she got up, of her deliverance from all those cares and worries, from which, throughout her whole life, she had never perfectly escaped till now, and which, during late years, had followed her weary steps very closely. It was pleasant to dress herself in the rich raiment - the soft, warm, becoming silks and furs which before she could only admire at such an unapproachable distance; and to feel conscious, as she looked in her glass, that she was a fair, stately, pleasant woman to look on, and no longer the pinched and meagrely dressed, shabbygenteel figure she used to know. The very creature comforts which now surrounded her the bright, well-furnished rooms in which she had gone to live, the good food on her table, the well-bred, well

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dressed servants who waited on her, the comfortable little carriage which was at her command-all these luxuries were relished by her with a keen zest which had in it something of youthful freshness of enjoyment.

or disagreeable. It was mortifying, no doubt, to have lost even that poor legacy of a hundred pounds on which she had been reckoning. I was rather trying to her temper to see her poor relation so entirely raised above all reach of her patAs to the glad, delicious consciousness ronage. But there was some con olation of her power to do kindnesses and give in assuming a patronage of another kind. help, it would have been almost overpower- Miss Brown was no longer dependent on ing, if she had not very soon been uncere- her stray gifts of game, poultry, or garden moniously awakened to the fact that, rich produce, or on her offers of change and as she was, she was not half rich enough country air; but she was very dependent to satisfy one-tenth part of the demands on Mrs. Lorimer's knowledge of the world which were sure to be made on her purse and society, and on her advice respecting and her benevolence. Within the very servants, houses, and tradespeople; and first fortnight after Mrs. Barker's death, Mrs. Lorimer was kindly 1.beral in allowshe began to see something of this. It might have been an undesigned coincidence" but it certainly was an odd one that the clergyman of the church to which she belonged should have preached on the text beginning" Charge them that are rich in this world," the very Sunday after Mrs. Barker's funeral. During the following week she got three letters, one requesting a subscription towards the building of a Protestant church at Constantinople; another setting forth in pathetic terms the case of a destitute clergyman's widow and six children in the west of Ireland; the third, with a calm confidence which at first startled her into the supposition that her claim to the money was being formally disputed, suggesting that she should immediately employ her fortune in building a model lodging-house for unemployed market-gardeners. Along with this last application came a printed form of subscription and stamped envelope, which she conscientiously returned. But she sent five pounds to the destitute Irish widow, and was rewarded by seeing afterwards in the newspapers that the case was one of mere common swindling. In fact, it was in this very matter of her ability to be charitable that she found almost the only drop of bitterness in her cup of pleasure she could not help people expecting too much from her, but it grieved her to be obliged to disappoint their expectations. In spite of this, however, she was happy, very happy.

One other thing had at first interfered with her pleasure in her riches-she feared that Mrs. Lorimer would grudge them to her, and would resent having been so completely passed over in Mrs. Barker's will. To her great comfort, however, Mrs. Lorimer shewed nothing but generous and sympathetic pleasure in her cousin's good fortune. Indeed, Mrs. Lorimer was too prudent a woman to wish to seem unkind

ing her the benefit of both, and found its pleasant to chaperon her rich, shy, spinster cousin to shops, and call, and dinnerparties, that she swallowed the annoyance of having to take up a somewhat secondary position. Nor could she help being softened and propitiated by the simplicity and modesty with which Priscella bore her new honours. Perhaps Mrs. Lormer's conscience reminded her of many a light, and sign of careless indifference to her poor cousin's feelings, which the latter might now have resented, if she had chosen. She was half-touched by her gentle humility, and half-contemptuous of it. "Priscilla was always a poor- pirited creature, poor thing!" she said to herself. She did not understand that Miss Brown could still distinctly remember every mortification and annoyance, even while she silently forgave them, and tried to view them as not having been intended. But she did understand that Priscilla was "after all, a good creature. And I'm sure, for my part,” she said to her brother, "I don't grudge her her good luck. And it's well for her that she has us to take care of her, for she's as simple as a child in some things. But she's really so good-tempered and amiable, one can't help liking her." It had taken Mrs. Lorimer a long time, apparantly, to find out her cousin's good qualities; and even Mr. Dixon smiled a little to himself at this sudden recognition of them.

Five months passed away, and the first novelty of Miss Brown's change of fortune had subsided. She was still very happy in it. Every morning and evening her thanksgivings for her "mercies" were as fervent as ever. But sometimes, to her surprise, there would come over her in the midst of her prosperity, a slightly dull, wearied, unsatisfied feeling; and now and then she would wonder why, even now with so many friends and acquaintances

than she used to have, she should still be so lonely.

replied: "Well, on the whole, I think you couldn't do better."

Mr. Dixon looked relieved, for he had been waiting with some uneasiness for Mrs. Lorimer's verdict.

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One reason for it might be her own natural reserve and shyness of temper; it was so difficult for her to make new acquaintances. People fancied she was "Of course, my marriage need not proud and unsocial, and the knowledge make any difference to you," he said that she was believed to be so, increased readily. "You would remain - that is," her shyness. Nobody seemed really to he added, correcting himself, and aware understand and become fond of her not that he had been very nearly hurried even those to whom she tried to be kind-away by an impulse of gratitude into an ⚫ est. She was courted and paid attention imprudent suggestion "you would reto, but she knew that it was partly on ac- main here until you could find a house to count of her fortune and position, partly suit yourself. I am sure Priscilla would out of compliment to Mrs. Lorimer, who be too glad to have you." had first insisted on introducing her into society. She never experienced any sentimental longings for the old, quiet, ob- Then she felt that she was foolish to scure life; she shuddered at the thought spoil the effect of her former gracious of its dreariness and poverty. But she felt speech by any ungraciousness of manner. that her present life, easy and comfortable | After all, her brother's announcement as it was, did not prove quite so satisfac- had not taken her by surprise. That he tory as she had at first fancied it was to

be.

At last, when the bright spring weather began, she went to pay her cousins a visit at Elm Grove. There was a pleasant excitement in the idea of this visit, which made her prepare for it with a feeling of eagerness and anticipative enjoyment. After all, her own home was a dnll one, in spite of its pleasantness and comfort. Her cousins were her cousins, her own nearest relations, and they had of late acted towards her in a very kind and cousinly way, and had both pressed her to come and stay as long as she liked. There was no doubt that they would be very happy to see her.

That was such a new, pleasant conviction, that people were to be happy, really and truly happy to see her! It was a conviction she had rather missed, it must be said, on the occasion of former visits to Elm Grove. She remembered that; but she would not think about it now; for there was Mrs. Lorimer standing at the door to receive her, hospitable welcome beaming in her face; and there yes, there was Robert himself, who had come home early from his beloved bank that day, on purpose to be ready to hand her out of the carriage! It was a very pleasant arrival.

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Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Lorimer, rather snappishly.

should marry again, was only in the natural order of things; and Priscilla was likely to be a very docile and subservient sister-in-law. So, when he went on to say that he had made up his mind to propose to her that evening, Mrs. Lorimer, after that one struggle between her temper and her prudence, made up her mind to approve heartily of what he was going to do.

"You know, Robert, I have always been anxious that you should marry again. And I am very fond of Priscilla; and I am sure, putting aside all thought of her fortune, that she will make you an excellent wife."

Mr. Dixon was too glad to get his sister's consent and to have everything, as he expressed it to himself," arranged so easily," to make any remark on the self-denial with which she had for so long concealed from him her secret wishes as to his remarriage.

Priscilla had been enjoying her visit very much. She could not remember, as she innocently told her cousins, when she had been so happy. Perhaps it did not occur to any of them that her memory need not have been so severely taxed, if former visits had been made equally pleasant to her. But that fortnight, at any rate, had passed very pleasantly; and with her spirits enlivened, and her health strengthened by the fresh country air, the shy gravity had become dispelled, the sweet, serene temper had brightened into gentle cheerfulness, and she had proved herself so pleasant a companion, that Mrs. Lorimer wondered half-grudgingly, at the change in her, and Mr. Dixon became

more and more sensible that his notion of marrying Priscilla was an excellent one.

taking the field that night with a very comfortable confidence both in the wisdom of his project and in its ultimate success.

The step once decided on, he did not lose time in taking it. On the very even- He handed Priscilla, as usual, to dining after he had settled his plans with ner, and exerted himself even more than his sister, he proceeded to make them usual to be agreeable to her. And she known to the person they most concerned, found him very agreeable. But as she without a single misgiving in his mind as went with Mrs. Lorimer to the drawingto her manner of receiving the intelli- room after dinner, she thought, with a gence. His confidence was not unreason- half-wondering, half-melancholy smile, how able. He had great reliance on his sister's much she would have given years ago for judgment, and she had spoken as if Pris- such a delightful hour. "But I daresay it cilla, or indeed any single lady whatever, would have been very different then. How must be thankful for an offer of marriage, happy I should have been - and yet, how from whomsoever it might come. He shy and stupid, and how vexed with myknew, too, that an offer from him was not self afterwards for my awkwardness and one to be despised. He was rich, with a confusion. I was not shy at all to-night. handsome house and an ample establish- How pleasant it is to be able to talk easily. ment. He was a widower, indeed, and he Yes, it is very pleasant — but Well, had three children. But these facts perhaps, it is best as it is." She was sighseemed only to give an air of increased ing to herself, she hardly knew why, when solidity and respectability to the posi- she found that Mr. Dixon had followed tion he had to bestow. He was no law- her from the dining-room, and that Mrs. less elderly bachelor, of doubtful habits; Lorimer had left the room, and they were neither was he a precise, selfish, unyield- alone. ing one, untrained to the domestic yoke, and accustomed to take always his own way. His first wife had had a very good time of it with him; his sister had reigned and ruled to her heart's content. Priscilla, or any body else, might reasonably count on a very comfortable married life, and Mrs. Lorimer had just cause for believing

that her brother ran no risk of a refusal.

Nothing in this, however, struck her as extraordinary. She sat down on the sofa, and took up her work, and made some remark about the fineness of the weather and the beauty of the spring-blossom on the trees.

"Do you like this place, Priscilla?" he said abruptly.

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Elm Grove! Yes, I like it very much." She knitted away qnite comfortably and unsuspiciously.

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"Priscilla," he said gravely, "I am going to ask you to be my wife." Then, indeed, her composure gave way. A look of stupefaction, a deadly paleness came over her face. It had come at last! And she had been thinking herself safe!

But Mrs. Lorimer had no suspicion of what, after all, was his chief source of confidence, She knew nothing of his old flir- "I'm glad you like it. Priscilla, what tation with his cousin, and she had never would you say Then he stopped remarked what had not quite escaped his and looked at her. It was very odd, but eyes the little nervous flutter which she was still blind to what was coming. Priscilla had sometimes betrayed at the She looked up from her knitting for a sight of him. Of late, certainly, her man- | moment without exactly noting what he ner had been much more self-possessed, was saying, and began to count some but this was only natural, for she had stitches. Her calmness annoyed him, but been seeing him more frequently, and she he had begun now, and he would go on. was perhaps acquiring more self-reliance and dignity since her succession to fortune. It was very well she should do so; he would not care to have a shy, nervous, easily abashed wife at the head of his table. As to her liking for himself, he had no doubt of it; and though he had Then, as he sat down on the sofa beside thought little enough of it in by-past days, her, and took her hand, while she was there was now something which pleasant- too bewildered and frightened to make ly flattered his vanity in the belief that he even a show of resistance, a sudden had always been an object of special inter-memory rushed over her of those old, est to one, who, he was beginning to find long-past days-of hours when she had out, was a very lovable woman indeed. waited, and watched, and wept, and Moreover, she was a person of importance now in their society: and a marriage with her would add not a little to his own consequence. On the whole, he prepared for

prayed for this very thing; of weary days of blank disappointment, of nights of bitter tears. And it was come now-now, when she had no other welcome for it but this

feeling of actual shrinking and terror.
"Oh! no, no!" she murmured, with a sort
of wail, as if over the remembrance of
what she had once suffered. Of course, he
did not understand her. He, in his obtuse,
well-meaning contentment with himself
and his plans, could only suppose that her
low cry was expressive of conventional,
old-maidenly hesitation.

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435

She was alone in the world; and had she
not been feeling this loneliness of hers to
be a sad and cheerless thing, even with all
her money to comfort her in it? And
why should she tremble at the offer that
had been made her to-night? She had
- how dearly! Was her
loved this man
love for him so completely dead? He had
been very good and kind to her during
those last months; she had been very hap-

--

"We're neither of us so young as we have been, it's true," he said, with a self-py living in his house. What was there satisfied smile. But we needn't mind that need we, Priscilla? We are old enough to please ourselves at any rate. I've only to think of my children and my sister. As to the children, you're just the very best mother they can have; and they're fond of you already, you know. As to Maria, she knows what I'm going to do, and she's delighted. And you have nobody to think of at all."

That was true, how true! She had nobody to think of; she was so alone in the world! She turned away her face, and tried to think, and he still held her hand.

so alarming in the idea of having to live there always? On the other hand, was there not something chilling and unwelcome to her in the thought of having to return to her own solitary home? And now she need not return there; her home, her very own home was to be here, among the pleasant fields and gardens! How often had she thought with a sigh of excusable envy, how charming such a home would be.

Yet she could not help saying to herself over and over again: "Oh, if he had only asked me before! Oh, if he had asked me when I was poor and friendless, and had Just then, Mrs. Lorimer came in. She no home at all! Oh, why does he come to When the morning came she thought she had given them time enough me now?" to make up matters, and she was impa- had not answered the question to her sattient, with a somewhat irritable im- isfaction; and she got up and dressed, patience, to know if she must really weary and depressed, and with every look out for another home for herself or minute that passed getting more and more perplexed as to what she was to do next.

not.

"Well, Maria," said her brother cheerfully, as she came in. Miss Brown drew her hand away, and stood up hastily; but he rose too, and again took possession of her hand; and as he did so, he felt a real pleasure and satisfaction in his prize. He had no doubt at all that he had done well for himself.

over.

Before Miss Brown could say a word, Mrs. Lorimer came up and gave her a hasty kiss. She wanted to get the scene Then the three little girls came in, and Priscilla had presence of mind enough to whisper hurriedly: "Please, say nothing to them yet." And nothing more was said that evening.

CHAPTER VII.

AFTER breakfast, Mr. Dixon begged to have a few minutes' conversation with her. It was a fine bright morning, and they went out on the lawn near the house. But presently they discovered that the air, though fine and spring-like, was a little chilly, and the paths were slightly damp; and Mr. Dixon had forgotten his hat, and Miss Brown her shawl: so they It returned to the house, and Mr. Dixon led the way to the comfortable library. was a more suitable trysting-place for such middle-aged lovers than the damp garden; but Miss Brown thought, with a curious wistful, sadness, how little she would have cared about damp and cold once.

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But poor Miss Brown had no sleep that night. What was this that had happened to her, and what had she been about, that she had allowed it to happen! Had she 'Well, my dear Priscilla," began Mr. really agreed to marry Robert Dixon? She felt she had not agreed to it; in her Dixon as he placed a chair for her near own heart she had shrunk from agreeing the fire, "now that you and I have come to it. Yet her agreement had been taken to an understanding, we had better befor granted. She was vexed and angry gin to consider our future arrangements a with herself; how foolish and stupid she little." had been. And yet, how could she have helped it?

He had taken a chair for himself, and put it as near to hers as he could manage, Was not what Robert had said, true?' and now he again offered to take her hand.

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