"But he can change his coats and collars. And really O'Boyneville is a very good fellow, and a very clever one." "Yes, papa, but what woman ever cared about such cleverness as that? A man whose greatest achievement is to cross-examine some stupid witness, and set a stupid jury laughing at his stupid jokes. No, you dear innocent parent, Cecil did not care two straws about that uncultivated Queen's Counsel; but she married him because he is well off, and can give her what people call a good home. A good home in Brunswick Square! Poor Cecil, I am dying to call upon her, and hear how she endures her existence in Bloomsbury!" After this Miss Crawford contrived to turn the conversation. She talked of her father's pictures,--the Countess of Shrewsbury, the larger classical subject which he was going to finish before the first of May,--any thing and every thing except Mr. Lobyer: and after dining _tête-à-tête_ with Mr. Crawford, Florence retired to array herself in blue gauze, and returned to the drawing-room to await a friendly dowager, who was to call for her at ten o'clock, and beneath whose sheltering wing she was to appear at a party to which Mr. Lobyer had also been bidden. The master of Pevenshall Place and the Lobyer mills called on the painter next day, and made a formal demand for the hand of his daughter. "You won't find me illiberal in the matter of settlements, Mr. Crawford," said the rich man, as the painter deliberated with a clouded brow and a thoughtful aspect. "Let your lawyer name his own terms, and fight the business out with my fellow. When I fall in love with a beautiful woman I'm not the sort of man to spoil my chance by a niggardly policy," said Mr. Lobyer, whose tone was rather calculated to convey the idea that Florence Crawford was not the first beautiful woman with whom he had fallen in love. But the painter was too much struck by the first part of the young man's speech to pay much attention to the latter portion. "My dear Sir," he exclaimed, "I dare say what you have just been saying is very generously intended; but you must remember that we are not making a bargain. My daughter is not one of my pictures, to be disposed of to the highest bidder; and I assure you I have my fancies even about the disposal of them, and don't always care to sell them to the person who offers me most money. If I consider your proposal at all, I must consider it as it affects my daughter's future happiness, not her purse. I suppose a settlement is a usual thing with a man of your wealth; and in that case I am willing that you should do what is fair and just, if you marry my daughter. But I cannot for a moment allow you to put forward your money as an inducement to me, when you propose to become the husband of my only child."