she said, with her bright smile. "And so shall
you," she added for Miss Garth's especial benefit,
as she sauntered past the governess, on her way
back to the breakfast-table. The eyes of Miss
Garth followed her indignantly; and Frank
slipped out, on his side, at that favourable
opportunity.

Under these circumstances, there was but one
course that any respectable woman could take—
she could only shudder. Miss Garth registered
her protest in that form, and then returned to
the house.

When breakfast was over, and when Mr.
Vanstone's hand descended to his pocket in search
of his cigar-case, Magdalen rose; looked
significantly at Miss Garth; and followed her father
into the hall.

"Papa," she said, "I want to speak to you
this morning—in private."

"Ay! ay!" returned Mr. Vanstone. "What
about, my dear?"

"About—" Magdalen hesitated, searched
for a satisfactory form of expression, and found
it. "About business, papa," she said.

Mr. Vanstone took his garden-hat from the
hall-table —opened his eyes in mute perplexity—
attempted to associate in his mind the two
extravagantly dissimilar ideas of Magdalen and
"business" —failed—and led the way resignedly
into the garden.

His daughter took his arm, and walked with
him to a shady seat at a convenient distance from
the house. She dusted the seat with her smart
silk apron, before her father occupied it. Mr.
Vanstone was not accustomed to such an
extraordinary act of attention as this. He sat down,
looking more puzzled than ever. Magdalen
immediately placed herself on his knee, and
rested her head comfortably on his shoulder.

"Am I heavy, papa?" she asked.

"Yes, my dear, you are," said Mr. Vanstone—
"but not too heavy for me. Stop on your perch,
if you like it. Well? And what may this
business happen to be?"

"It begins with a question."

"Ah, indeed? That doesn't surprise me.
Business with your sex, my dear, always begins
with questions. Go on."

"Papa! do you ever intend allowing me to be
married?"

Mr. Vanstone's eyes opened wider and wider.
The question, to use his own phrase, completely
staggered him.

"This is business with a vengeance!" he said.
"Why, Magdalen! what have you got in that
harum-scarum head of yours now?"

"I don't exactly know, papa. Will you answer
my question?"

"I will if I can, my dear; you rather stagger
me. Well, I don't know. Yes; I suppose I
must let you be married, one of these days—if
we can find a good husband for you. How hot
your face is! Lift it up, and let the air blow
over it. You won't? Well—have your own
way. If talking of business means tickling your
cheek against my whisker, I've nothing to say
against it. Go on, my dear. What's the next
question? Come to the point!"

She was far too genuine a woman to do
anything of the sort. She skirted round the point,
and calculated her distance to the nicety of a
hair's breadth.

"We were all very much surprised, yesterday,
—were we not, papa? Frank is wonderfully
lucky, isn't he?"

"He's the luckiest dog I ever came across,"
said Mr. Vanstone. "But what has that got to do
with this business of yours? I dare say you see
your way, Magdalen. Hang me, if I can see
mine!"

She skirted a little nearer.

"I suppose he will make his fortune in China?"
she said. " It's a long way off, isn't it? Did
you observe, papa, that Frank looked sadly out
of spirits yesterday?"

"I was so surprised by the news," said Mr.
Vanstone, " and so staggered by the sight of old
Clare's sharp nose in my house, that I didn't
much notice. Now you remind me of it—yes.
I don't think Frank took kindly to his own good
luck; not kindly at all."

"Do you wonder at that, papa?"

"Yes, my dear; I do, rather."

"Don't you think it's hard to be sent away for
five years, to make your fortune among hateful
savages, and lose sight of your friends at home
for all that long time? Don't you think Frank
will miss us, sadly? Don't you, papa?—don't
you?"

"Gently, Magdalen! I'm a little too old for
those long arms of yours to throttle me in fun.
—You're right, my love. Nothing in this world,
without a drawback. Frank will miss his friends
in England: there's no denying that."

"You always liked Frank. And Frank always
liked you."

"Yes, yes—a good fellow; a quiet, good
fellow. Frank and I have always got on smoothly
together."

"You have got on like father and son, haven't
you?"

"Certainly, my dear."

"Perhaps you will think it harder on him when
he has gone, than you think it now?"

"Likely enough, Magdalen; I don't say,
no."

"Perhaps you will wish he had stopped in
England? Why shouldn't he stop in England,
and do as well as if he went to China?"

"My dear! he has no prospects in England
I wish he had, for his own sake. I wish the lad
well, with all my heart."

"May I wish him well, too, papa—with all my
heart?"

"Certainly, my love— your old playfellow—
why not? What's the matter? God bless my
soul, what is the girl crying about? One would
think Frank was transported for life. You goose!
You know, as well as I do, he is going to China
to make his fortune."