"Not now, my dear. They've done away with all that since we had Jew members. An atheist can go into Parliament now; and I'm told that most of them are that, or nearly as bad. I can remember when no Papist could sit in Parliament. But they seem to me to be doing away with everything. It's a great comfort to me that Frederic is what he is." "I'm sure it must be, aunt." Then there was a pause, during which, however, Mrs. Winterfield gave no sign that the conversation was to be considered as being over. Clara knew her aunt's ways so well, that she was sure something more was coming, and therefore waited patiently, without any thought of taking up her book. "I was speaking to him about you yesterday," Mrs. Winterfield said at last. "That would not interest him very much." "Why not? Do you suppose he is not interested in those I love? Indeed, it did interest him; and he told me what I did not know before, and what you ought to have told me." Clara now blushed, she knew not why, and became agitated. "I don't know that I have kept anything from you that I ought to have told," she said. "He says that the provision made for you by your father has all been squandered." "If he used that word he has been very unkind," said Clara, angrily. "I don't know what word he used, but he was not unkind at all; he never is. I think he was very generous." "I do not want his generosity, aunt." "That is nonsense, my dear. If he has told me the truth, what have you to depend on?" "I don't want to depend on anything. I hate hearing about it." "Clara, I wonder you can talk in that way. If you were only seventeen it would be very foolish; but at your age it is inexcusable. When I am gone, and your father is gone, who is to provide for you? Will your cousin do it--Mr. Belton, who is to have the property?" "Yes, he would--if I would let him;--of course I would not let him. But, aunt, pray do not go on. I would sooner have to starve than talk about it at all." There was another pause; but Clara again knew that the conversation was not over; and she knew also that it would be vain for her to endeavour to begin another subject. Nor could she think of anything else to say, so much was she agitated. "What makes you suppose that Mr. Belton would be so liberal?" asked Mrs. Winterfield. "I don't know. I can't say. He is the nearest relation I shall have; and of all the people I ever knew he is the best, and the most generous, and the least selfish. When he came to us papa was quite hostile to him--disliking his very name; but when the time came, papa could not bear to think of his going, because he had been so good." "Clara!" "Well, aunt." "I hope you know my affection for you." "Of course I do, aunt; and I hope you trust mine for you also." "Is there anything between you and Mr. Belton besides cousinship?" "Nothing." "Because if I thought that, my trouble would of course be at an end."