"Yes; I knew that. I can tell you, and I told Patience. But I could not tell him." She paused a moment thinking whether she could describe the whole scene; but she found that she could not do that. "I shall tell him, perhaps, when he comes again; that is, if he does come." "If he loves you he will come." "I don't know. He has all these troubles on him, and he will be very poor;--what will seem to him to be very poor. It would not be poor for me, but for him it would." "Would that hinder him?" "How can I say? There are so many things a girl cannot know. He may still be in debt, and then he has been brought up to want so much. But it will make no more difference in me. And now you will understand why I should tell you that I will never begrudge you your good fortune. If all should come right, you shall give us a little cottage near your grand house, and you will not despise us." Poor Clary, when she spoke of her possible future lord, and the little cottage on the Newton demesne, hardly understood the feelings with which a disinherited heir must regard the property which he has lost. "Dear, dearest Clary," said Mary Bonner, pressing her cousin's arm. They had now reached Mrs. Brownlow's house, and the old lady was delighted to receive them. Of course she began to discuss at once the great news. Sir Thomas had had his arm broken, and was now again a member of Parliament. Mrs. Brownlow was a thorough-going Tory, and was in an ecstasy of delight that her old friend should have been successful. The success seemed to be so much the greater in that the hero had suffered a broken bone. And then there were many questions to be asked? Would Sir Thomas again be Solicitor-General by right of his seat in Parliament?--for on such matters Mrs. Brownlow was rather hazy in her conceptions as to the working of the British Constitution. And would he live at home? Clarissa would not say that she and Patience expected such a result. All that she could suggest of comfort on this matter was that there would be now something of a fair cause for excusing their father's residence at his London chambers. But there was a subject more enticing to the old lady even than Sir Thomas's triumphs; a subject as to which there could not be any triumph,--only dismay; but not, on that account, the less interesting. Ralph Newton had sold his inheritance. "I believe it is all settled," said Clarissa, demurely. "Dear, dear, dear, dear!" groaned the old lady. And while she groaned Clarissa furtively cast a smile upon her cousin. "It is the saddest thing I ever knew," said Mrs. Brownlow. "And, after all, for a young man who never can be anybody, you know." "Oh yes," said Clarissa, "he can be somebody." "You know what I mean, my dear. I think it very shocking, and very wrong. Such a fine estate, too!"