“I am used to my poverty, Francis,” she said;--“let me be poor still. Nobody is inquisitive about me, because I am beneath people’s curiosity. No one questions me about the husband who has deserted me, or extorts my story from me only to doubt it when it is told. My father would not believe me; can I expect strangers to be more trusting than he was? No, Francis; leave me alone in my obscurity. I have a lodging near here, and I can see my darling every day. I will freely accept from you a little income which will enable me to live as I have lived, without working as hard as I have worked; but I will accept no more. I am delighted to think that my father left his fortune to you, Frank; and I thank and bless you for having taken so much trouble to find me out.” Francis Tredethlyn found it hard work to win Susan away from this determination, so quietly expressed. But he did at last persuade her to agree to his own plans for her life, on condition that he should tell Maude nothing, nor ask Susan to meet her until the missing husband was found, and compelled to acknowledge his wife and son. Francis consented to promise this; but he cherished a hope that Susan would relent by-and-by, when she heard more of Maude’s tender and amiable nature, and that he would be able to win his wife’s friendship for the simple country girl who had played with him amongst the daisies in Landresdale churchyard. “You must accept the home I shall prepare for you, Susy,” said Francis, “or I will have a deed of gift drawn up to-morrow, transferring half my fortune to you. I am ready to divide your father’s wealth with you as soon as ever I understand your legal position. In the meantime let me have the sweetest pleasure my money has ever given me yet--the pleasure of making a happy home for you and my little kinsman. If you knew how I have wasted that hoarded money, Susy, on racecourses, and all kinds of worthless places,” added Mr. Tredethlyn, with a remorseful recollection of one particular brand of Moselle, for which he had been wont to pay fourteen shillings a bottle in the purlieus of the Haymarket.