“None, on my honour!” said the younger lady, putting her hand upon her breast. “Ah! but do you not?” and Miss Dunstable caught hold of her arm, and spoke almost abruptly in her energy. “No, certainly not. What impediment? If I did, I should not have broached the subject. I declare I think you would both be very happy together. Of course, there is one impediment; we all know that. That must be your look out.” “What do you mean? What impediment?” “Your own money.” “Psha! Did you find that an impediment in marrying Frank Gresham?” “Ah! the matter was so different there. He had much more to give than I had, when all was counted. And I had no money when we—when we were first engaged.” And the tears came into her eyes as she thought of the circumstances of her early love;—all of which have been narrated in the county chronicles of Barsetshire, and may now be read by men and women interested therein. “Yes; yours was a love match. I declare, Mary, I often think that you are the happiest woman of whom I ever heard; to have it all to give, when you were so sure that you were loved while you yet had nothing.” “Yes; I was sure,” and she wiped the sweet tears from her eyes, as she remembered a certain day when a certain youth had come to her, claiming all kinds of privileges in a very determined manner. She had been no heiress then. “Yes; I was sure. But now with you, dear, you can’t make yourself poor again. If you can trust no one—” “I can. I can trust him. As regards that I do trust him altogether. But how can I tell that he would care for me?” “Do you not know that he likes you?” “Ah, yes; and so he does Lady Scatcherd.” “Miss Dunstable!” “And why not Lady Scatcherd, as well as me? We are of the same kind—come from the same class.” “Not quite that, I think.” “Yes, from the same class; only I have managed to poke myself up among dukes and duchesses, whereas she has been content to remain where God placed her. Where I beat her in art, she beats me in nature.” “You know you are talking nonsense.” “I think that we are both doing that—absolute nonsense; such as schoolgirls of eighteen talk to each other. But there is a relief in it; is there not? It would be a terrible curse to have to talk sense always. Well, that’s done; and now let us go out.” Mrs. Gresham was sure after this that Miss Dunstable would be a consenting party to the little arrangement which she contemplated. But of that she had felt but little doubt for some considerable time past. The difficulty lay on the other side, and all that she had as yet done was to convince herself that she would be safe in assuring her uncle of success if he could be induced to take the enterprise in hand. He was to come to Boxall Hill that evening, and to remain there for a day or two. If anything could be done in the matter, now would be the time for doing it. So at least thought Mrs. Gresham.