“What! that country clerk of her father’s?” said the man, with the confidence born of ignorance. “Nonsense! why, it seems only the other day that I heard some one laughing about that fellow’s infatuation. Oh, no; now that they’re rich, they’ll want to marry their daughter to some one of social standing: indeed, I heard some one say as much. The mother is very ambitious in that line, you know.” Marge soon excused himself, lit a strong cigar, and betook himself to a solitary walk and some hard thinking. There was perhaps a grand point to be made on that fellow’s suggestion. From what he knew of Mrs. Tramlay,--and he informed himself that no one knew that lady better,--he would not be surprised if an approved society man might now be entirely welcome as a husband for Lucia, even if he were as poor as a church mouse. And Lucia herself--had she not always longed for larger and more prominent society than she had yet enjoyed? Before his cigar was burned out, Marge had bought a ticket for New York, determined to make a bold stroke for fortune where he felt that he had at heart one faithful friend to aid him. His imagination and pride combined to cheer him on; he would reappear at Tramlay’s, see how the land lay, and if the signs were encouraging he would propose at once, first taking Mrs. Tramlay into his confidence. He had lost enough by hesitation; now he would adopt entirely new tactics, and there was no pleasanter way to begin than by proposing to Lucia. As he had told himself before, she was a very pretty girl, and fully competent, with such guidance as he would give her, to make the most of her new advantages. Reaching New York at nightfall, he lost no time in dressing with extreme care and making his way to the Tramlay abode. He would have no difficulty in explaining his long absence to the ladies; perhaps they had heard of his disaster in E. & W., but he could tell them that he had been largely interested in a rich silver-mine ever since. There would be nothing untrue in that statement; had he not been so deeply interested that he could not sleep a wink during the week while the title to the Brighthope mine--curse the rocky hole!--was first in doubt? Besides, women were sure to talk, and equally sure not to diminish the size of a story while telling it: quite likely his tale, repeated by Mrs. Tramlay and Lucia, might have the effect of restoring him to the regard of the many people who estimate a man solely by his money. As he entered the house he was satisfied that his operations would not be postponed by the announcement “not at home,” for through the open door he heard familiar voices in the rear of the parlor, and he saw several heads bent over a table. None of them seemed to belong to strangers: so he entered with the freedom to which long acquaintance entitled him. The backs of the entire party were towards him, so his presence was not observed: besides, an animated discussion seemed to be going on between Lucia and Margie.