"Mrs. Askerton will not hurt her at all,--and as long as Clara does not know the story, Mrs. Askerton may serve as well as another. But yet--" "Can I go to her, Will?" "No, dearest. The journey would kill you in winter. And he would not like it. We are bound to think of that for her sake,--cold-hearted, thankless, meagre-minded creature as I know he is." "I do not know why he should be so bad." "No, nor I. But I know that he is. Never mind. Why should we talk about him? I suppose she'll have to go there,--to Aylmer Park. I suppose they will send for her, and keep her there till it's all finished. I'll tell you what, Mary,--I shall give her the place." "What,--Belton Castle?" "Why not? Will it ever be of any good to you or me? Do you want to go and live there?" "No, indeed;--not for myself." "And do you think that I could live there? Besides, why should she be turned out of her father's house?" "He would not be mean enough to take it." "He would be mean enough for anything. Besides, I should take very good care that it should be settled upon her." "That's nonsense, Will;--it is indeed. You are now William Belton of Belton, and you must remain so." "Mary,--I would sooner be Will Belton with Clara Amedroz by my side to get through the world with me, and not the interest of an acre either at Belton Castle or at Plaistow Hall! And I believe I should be the richer man at the end,--if there were any good in that." Then he went out of the room, and she heard him go through the kitchen, and knew that he passed out into the farm-yard, towards the stable, by the back-door. He intended, it seemed, to go on with his hunting in spite of this death which had occurred. She was sorry for it, but she could not venture to stop him. And she was sorry also that nothing had been settled as to the writing of any letter to Clara. She, however, would take upon herself to write while he was gone.