He was good-looking, much better educated than her brother and her brother’s set, and he adored her. But, on the other hand, he was utterly without any claims to be considered “smart,” and marriage with him would mean at best bread and cheese—or would at least mean nothing better than bread and cheese until they should both be middle-aged, and she should have lost all semblance of a waist. She had met solicitors’ wives in society who wore diamonds, and who hurried away from evening parties because they were afraid of their horses catching cold—a carefulness which to her mind implied that horses were a novelty. She had even heard of solicitors making big fortunes; but she concluded that those were exceptional men, and she did not see in Harrington’s character the potentiality of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. Moved by these mixed feelings she allowed her lover to dangle in a state of uncertainty, and to spend all his spare cash upon those airy nothings which a young lady of Miss Baldwin’s easy temper will accept from even a casual admirer. He knew the glover whose gloves she approved, and she occasionally told him the colour of a gown in advance, so that he might give her a suitable fan; and she had, furthermore, an off-hand way of mentioning any songs or new French novels she fancied. “How very sweet of you,” she would say, when the songs or the books appeared, “but it is really too bad—I must never mention anything I want in your hearing.” In spite of which wise remark the volatile damsel went on mentioning things, and being surprised when her wishes were gratified. * * * * * Miss Baldwin had met Lady Cheriton and her daughter both in town and country, and she and her people had been invited to garden parties at Cheriton Chase, but there had been no intimacy between the families. Lady Cheriton shrank with an inward terror from a young lady of such advanced opinions as those which dropped like pearls and diamonds—or like toads and adders—according to the idea of her hearers—from Miss Baldwin’s lips. Rumours of the young man’s infatuation had been conveyed to the Priory by Lady Jane, and Harrington having gone to a family dinner at Milbrook was severely interrogated by his cousin. “I hope there is no truth in what I have heard about you, Harry,” she said confidentially, when he was sitting by her in her favourite corner within the shadow of the tall screen. “I cannot answer that question until you tell me what you have heard,” he replied with offended dignity. “Something that would make me very unhappy if it were true. I was told you were getting entangled with that Miss Baldwin.” “I don’t know why you should lay such an offensive emphasis upon the demonstrative pronoun. Miss Baldwin is beautiful and accomplished—and—I am very proud of being attached to her.” “Has it gone so far as that, Harry? Are you actually engaged to her?”