"You will find the children very obedient," she continued, "and nothing shall be wanting to add to your comfort. May we conclude the bargain to be settled?" "Certainly, so far as I am concerned," said the girl. These were the agreeable tidings which awaited Mr. John Hubbard when he returned home that night. "She is such a charming person," said his wife; "I don’t wonder at your brother being fond of her." "He is fond of her money," said John Hubbard, gloomily, "and fancies himself sure of it now." "It would be very wicked to take advantage of the girl’s innocence in any way," said Mrs. Hubbard, a proposition to which her husband assented. "But if we can touch her _gratitude_, my dear," said he, "there is no saying, as I told you before, what might happen." CHAPTER XXXV. ANOTHER BLUNDER. The old year died out; the new one came in—not attended with any very bright auspices for the persons concerned in this story. John Hubbard was, perhaps, the only one of them who was pleased with present events, and hopeful for the future. During many a secret conclave with his good-natured, pretty, limp, and lying little wife, he speculated on what shape his governess’s gratitude would ultimately assume. Mr. Anerley had not succeeded in getting any employment. Several times he was offered certain situations, and was on the point of accepting, when his son peremptorily forbade any such notion. "If you can get proper employment, and proper remuneration," said Will, "well and good; if not, the pound or two you would get would not compensate for the trouble and ignominy of such a position." Will’s voice in the matter was powerful, for he was supporting the household with such exertions as he was yet permitted to make. The old man did not think of trouble or ignominy. He thought only of Dove, and the numerous little luxuries to which she was accustomed. Nor dared he speak of this, except to his wife; for both saw the perpetual endeavours that Will was making for all of them. Sometimes the old man distrusted the audacious cheerfulness with which Will insisted on his mother and Dove having this or that particular luxury; and once he made a discovery that led him to think retrospectively of many things. Down in St. Mary-Kirby there was no home entertainment which afforded Dove so much pleasure as having red mullet and champagne for supper; and the disgraceful little epicure picked so daintily her tiny morsel of fish, and sipped so quaintly, with coquettish eyes thrown at her father, her glass of wine, that to the other people the feast was much more æsthetic than sensuous. "Mother," said Will, one evening, when he came home (but his words were directed to Dove), "we haven’t had red mullet for supper for a long time. I’ve brought home some; and I’ve brought home a small case of champagne for the especial use of people who behave themselves."