When the brewer had told his son that he must either change his mode of life, or marry a girl with money, the latter had pertinently asked: “Where am I to find her?” That there was an overplus of marriageable young women at St. Oswyth’s, as there is in all small provincial towns, was a melancholy fact which could not be gainsaid, nor that many of them were nice girls, carefully brought up, well educated, and in every way fitted to make a reasonable man happy; but, alas! they were one and all comparatively poor. Several of them had small dowries, and would inherit something considerable at the death of their parents; but ’tis ill waiting for dead men’s shoes, and Launce Keymer’s needs were those of the immediate future. Meantime, while waiting for the coming heiress, he flirted to his heart’s content, but, so far as was known, contrived to steer clear of any serious entanglement. And now, lo and behold! the heiress was here—had been here, at his elbow all the time, without his having had the least suspicion of the fact. No long time was allowed to elapse after the interview between Mr. Keymer and his cousin before Launce began to seize every opportunity that came in his way to pay assiduous court to the heiress of Vale View. There was a good deal of quiet gaiety in St. Oswyth’s that winter and spring, and they met on a number of occasions. It is not needful that we should linger over what came to pass. Launce, with a cleverness which, in a better cause, would have done him credit, did his best to adapt himself to what he called Ethel’s “Quaker-like ways,” toning himself down, so to speak, when in her presence, content to feel his way gradually, and not to startle her by too premature a declaration of his love, or what he wished her to regard as such. As already stated, he was both handsome and plausible. Ethel had never had such attentions paid her by any one else, and, almost before she knew what had befallen her, her heart had capitulated. When he had, as he conceived, sufficiently paved the way, Launce seized an opportunity to press his suit with well-simulated ardour, and succeeded in winning from the shrinking girl a half-reluctant consent, which, as soon as the glamour of his presence was removed, sent her to her chamber, there to shed tears which had in them a sting of poignant regret. But she had passed her word, and she was too loyal to attempt to recall it. As the days went on, she strove to persuade herself that she had not made a mistake, but that she really did love Launce, and it may be that she gradually succeeded in hoodwinking herself into such a belief. Yet at times there was a strange aching void in her heart which puzzled and frightened her. She had always understood that when people were in love it was for them a season of unalloyed happiness; but she, alas! was far from happy.