Clare was silent. Her mind had wandered away to other matters. A house of her own! The Rector had said that his house was hers, and the thought had not consoled her. Was it possible that in the years to come, in some dull distant time she too might consent, like other girls, to marry somebody--that she might have a house of her own. In the sudden change that had overwhelmed her this dream had come like many others. Was it possible that she could no longer command her own destiny, that the power of decision had gone out of her hands. Bitterness filled her heart; a bitterness too deep to find any outlet in words. A little while ago she had been conscious that it was in her power to make Arthur Arden’s life wealthy and happy. Now she had been tossed from her elevation in a moment, and the power transferred to him; and he showed no desire to use it. He was silent, condemning her to a blank of suspense, which chafed her beyond endurance. She said to herself it was intolerable, not to be borne. She would think of him no more; she would forget his very name. Would he never come? would he never come? “I don’t pretend to understand, my dear,” said Miss Somers humbly; “and if it distresses you, of course---- It is all because the Doctor is so hasty; and never, never will---- And then he expects me to understand. But, anyhow, it will stop the marriage, I suppose. The marriage, you know---- Gussy Thornleigh, of course. I am so sorry---- I think she is such a nice girl. Not like you, Clare; not beautiful nor----; but such a nice---- I was so pleased---- Dear Edgar, he will have to wait, and perhaps she will see some one else, or he---- Gentlemen are always the worst---- But, of course, Clare, the marriage must be put off----” “I don’t know of any marriage,” said Clare. “Oh, my dear, I heard---- I am not of much account, but still I have some friends; and in town, you know, Clare. They were always----; and everybody knew. Poor Edgar! he must be very, very---- He is so affectionate and---- He is one of the men that throw themselves upon your sympathy--and you must give him your---- Clare, my dear! are they to share Arden between them?--or is Edgar to be Arthur, you know? Oh! I do wish you would tell me, Clare.” “Mr. Arthur Arden has everything,” said Clare raising her head. “It all belongs to him. My brother has no right. Oh, Miss Somers, please don’t make me talk!”