But I must go now;” and with another hasty kiss, after the manner of girls, Clara ran down-stairs. Clara had thought to give Susie her sympathy and moral support in her trouble, but she had not dreamed of ever really loving her as a friend. And yet a week had not passed before she discovered qualities and sensibilities in Susie that not only surprised her, but made her compare most favorably with all the young friends Clara had known. The doctor was delighted with the growing regard of his daughter for Susie, in whom he had full faith. “Depend upon it, Clara,” he said, “Susie is a real gem, and under your polishing, you will see how she will shine out by-and-by. I think she will prove your best friend among women.” The next morning the doctor had a long talk with his wife, who had “pouted” him, as the French say, ever since their last stormy interview; but he found it useless to try to move her. She was still as firm as a rock, though manifesting it in a way that seemed very gentle; and by appealing to his affection for her, by recalling the tenderness on his part that had endured all through their married life, the happiness that reigned in their home until he became “estranged” from her, as she said, and especially by her tears, which he called cowardly weapons, because she knew beforehand that he could not resist them—by all this she succeeded in making the good doctor _feel_ that he was a brute, though he knew perfectly well that he had acted only justly and honorably in protecting a good girl in a disgrace caused by his own son. In the end he petted and caressed her, and turned her tears into smiles that were a triumph, but he saw in them only delight at his caresses. That night Mrs. Forest appeared in the doctor’s room in a ravishing night toilet that had been packed away in lavender since the days of their honeymoon. Is it possible that even virtuous married men are sometimes the victims of artful women? CHAPTER XV. THE DOCTOR’S LETTER—DAN REJECTED.