"Well, if that's your case, you can't be one of those giants you described just now. Women are not the obdurate and cruel creatures you fancy. They are proud, and vain, and unforgiving; but the misery and the perseverance of a lover constitute a worship that first flatters and then wins them. Remember this, a woman finds it very hard to give up a worshipper, except for another. Now why should you despair? You are a gentleman, you are a clever fellow, an agreeable fellow; you are what is accounted a young man still, and you can make your wife rich. They all like that. It is not avarice, but pride. I don't know the young lady, but I see no good reason why you should fail." "I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all; but some day I'll tell you more." "The only thing is---- You'll not mind my telling you, as you have been so frank with me?" "Pray say whatever you think. I shall be ever so much obliged. I forget so many things about English manners and ways of thinking--I have lived so very much abroad. Should I be put up for a club?" "Well, I should not mind a club just yet, till you know more people--quite time enough. But you must manage better. Why should those Jew fellows, and other people, who don't hold, and never can, a position the least like yours, be among your acquaintance? You must make it a rule to drop all objectionable persons, and know none but good people. Of course, when you are strong enough it doesn't so much matter, provided you keep them at arm's length. But you passed your younger days abroad, as you say, and not being yet so well known here, you will have to be particular--don't you see? A man is so much judged by his acquaintance; and, in fact, it is essential." "A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you," said Longcluse good-humouredly. "They sound frivolous; but these trifles have immense weight with women," said Arden. "By Jove!" he added, glancing at his watch, "we shall be late. Your trap is at the door--suppose we go?" CHAPTER III. MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART. The old housekeeper had drawn near her window, and stood close to the pane, through which she looked out upon the star-lit night. The stars shine down over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as shadows stand the horse and tax-cart that await Mr. Longcluse and Richard Arden, who now at length appear. The groom fixes the lamps, one of which shines full on Mr. Longcluse's peculiar face. "Ay--the voice; I could a' sworn to that," she muttered. "It went through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face; and yet there's summat in it, just a hint like, to call my thoughts out a-seeking up and down, and to and fro; and 'twill not let me rest until I come to find the truth. Mace? No, no. Langly? Not he. Yet 'twas summat _that night_, I think--summat awful. And who _was_ there? No one. Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord! for my heart is sore troubled."