recesses of his heart there glimmered yet,
unquenched, a spark of love for her, the
idol of his youth? It was not unlikely,
she thought; he was very romantic, as she
remembered him, just the sort of man in
whom commerce with the world would be
insufficient to blot out early impressions,
to efface cherished ideals.

Could it be possible that the great crisis
in her life was yet to come? That the
opportunity was yet to be given her of having
wealth and position, and, to share them
with her, a husband whom she could love,
and of whom she could be proud? Her
happiness seemed almost too great; and yet
it was there on the cards before her.
Forgetting all she had done, and shutting her
eyes to the fact that she herself had made
an enormous gulf between them, she blindly
argued to herself that it was impossible such
love as Walter Joyce's for her could ever
be wholly eradicated, that some spark of
its former fire must yet remain in its ashes,
and needed but tact and opportunity on
her part to fan it again into a flame. What
would not life be, then, were that
accomplished? She had been pleased with the
notion of entering society as Mr. Creswell's
wife (poor, prosaic Mr. Creswell!), but as
the wife of Walter Joyce, who was, according
to Mr. Gould, one of the most rising
men of the day, and who would have her
fortune at his back to further his schemes
and advance his interests, what might not
be done! Marian glowed with delight at
this ecstatic day-dream; sat cherishing it for
hours, thinking over all kinds of
combinations; finally put it aside with the full
determination to take some steps towards
seeing Walter Joyce at once.

How lucky it was, she thought, that
she had behaved amiably on the announcement
of Gertrude Creswell's marriage, and
not, as she had felt inclined at first to do,
returned a savage, or at best a formal,
answer! These people, these Benthalls,
were just those through whose agency her
designs must be carried out. They were
very friendly with Walter, and of course
saw something of him; indeed, she had
heard that he was expected down to stay
at Helmingham, so soon as he could get
away from London. If she played her
cards well—not too openly at first, but
ith circumspection—she might make
good use of these people; and as they
would not be too well off, even with the
interest of Gertrude's money, if they had a
family (and this sort of people, poor
parsons and schoolmasters—James Ashurst's
daughter had already learned to speak in
that way—always had a large number of
children) she might be able, in time to
buy their services and mould them to her
will.

It was under the influence of such feeings
that Marian had determined on being
exceedingly polite to the Benthalls, and
she regretted very much that she had been
away from home when they called on her.
She wrote a note to that effect to Mrs.
Benthall, and intimated her intention of
returning the visit almost immediately.
Mrs. Benthall showed the note to her
husband, who read it and lifted his
eyebrows, and asked his wife what it meant,
and why the widow had suddenly become
so remarkably attached to them. Mrs.
Benthall professed her inability to answer
his question, but remarked that it was a
good thing that "that" was all settled
between Maud and Walter, before Walter
came in madam's way again.

"But he isn't likely to come in her way
again," said the Reverend George.

"I don't know that," said Gerty; "this
sudden friendship for us looks to me very
much as though——"

"You don't mean to say you think Mrs.
Creswell intends making a convenience of
us?" asked Mr. Benthall.

"I think she did so intend," said
Gertrude; "but she——"

"We'll have nothing of that sort!"
cried Mr. Benthall, going through that
process which is known as "flaring-up;"
"we can get on well enough without her,
and her presents, and if——"

"Ah, you silly thing," interrupted
Gertrude, "don't you see that when Walter
marries Maud, there will be an end of
any use to which we could be put by Mrs.
Creswell, even if we were not going away
to the Newmanton living in a very few
weeks? You may depend upon it, that as
soon as she hears the news—and I will
take care to let her know it when she calls
here—she will gracefully retire, and during
the remainder of our stay in Helmingham
we shall see very little more of the rich
widow."

On the night of his acceptance by Maud
Creswell, Walter wrote a long letter to
Lady Caroline. He wrote it in his room,
the old room in which he used to sleep
in his usher days, when all the household
was in bed, after an evening passed by
him in earnest conversation with Maud
and Gertrude, while Mr. Benthall busied