Bella sighed and looked at the fire. Her fool’s paradise was a sweet place to dwell in, but there were times when the suspicion that it was only a fool’s paradise, after all, crept like an ugly snake into the Eden of her mind. ‘Dear Mrs. Dulcimer,’ she began thoughtfully, after an interval of silence, in which the Vicar’s wife had been trying to accomplish some manœuvre, almost as difficult as squaring the circle, with a brown paper pattern and an awkward bit of flannel. ‘You are too good to be so much interested in my welfare; but, do you know, sometimes I fancy you are altogether mistaken--as to--as to--Mr. Culverhouse’s feelings. He is all that is kind to me--he approves of my poor efforts to be useful--he praises me--he seems always glad to see me--yet he has never said a word that would imply----’ ‘That will come all at once, all in a moment,’ cried Mrs. Dulcimer, decisively. ‘It did with Clement. I hadn’t the least idea that he was in love with me. My father was a bookworm, you know, like Mr. Dulcimer; and Clement used to come to our house a great deal, and they were always talking of first editions and second editions, and black-letter books, and incunabula, and a lot more stuff, of which I hardly knew the meaning. And one day Clement suddenly asked me to marry him. I never felt so surprised in my life. I felt sure that my father must have suggested it to him, but the idea did not offend me. These things ought to be suggested. There are men who would go down to their graves miserable old bachelors for want of some one to give them a judicious hint.’ ‘And you really think Mr. Culverhouse likes me?’ faltered Bella. It was growing every day--nay, every hour--more and more a question of life or death with her. The old home seemed daily more hateful, the ideal existence to be shared with Cyril more paradisaic. Suspense gnawed her heart like a serpent’s tooth. She knew, and felt, that it was unwomanly to discuss such a question, even with friendly Mrs. Dulcimer, but she could not help seeking the comfort to be obtained from such a discussion. ‘My love, I am sure of it,’ said the Vicar’s wife, with conviction. ‘I have seen it in a thousand ways.’ Bella did not ask her to name one of the thousand, though she would have been very glad to get more detailed information.