Clarice felt puzzled. This conversation with Mr. Clarke opened her eyes to the fact that business was not so easy a matter as she had imagined. If she was to be tricked by Mr. Barras keeping back details of finance, and if Dr. Jerce was influencing Horran secretly, it appeared that she would have some difficulty in straightening out things at the death. Nevertheless, Horran had assured her that when he passed away, she would find everything in good order. Before she could pursue the subject further in her thoughts, the door opened, and Prudence appeared, with Ferdy behind her. Prudence was a brunette, as dark as Ferdy was fair, but tall and handsome and full of life and spirits. From the downward curve of her mouth, it would seem that she had a temper. But just now, she appeared to be filled with joy, and rushed to kiss Clarice. "Dear! dear!" she said, quickly, "Ferdy has--Ferdy has--" "I am glad," cried Clarice, guessing what had happened with the swift intuition of a woman; "it is exactly what I wanted Ferdy to do." "Well, then," said Ferdy, who was radiant as a lover, and who evidently had forgiven his sister for the quarrel at breakfast, "I've done it." "Done what?" asked the vicar, staring open-mouthed. "I have asked Prudence to become my wife." "Thank God!" said Clarke, devout and egotistic, "my debts will be paid." CHAPTER VI A DISCOVERY On that same night the weather changed with unexampled rapidity from cold to warm. A thick mist descended on Crumel, and the snow began to melt, as though under the influence of a summer sun. The long hours of darkness were filled with the dripping of water, the melting of snow, and the whole country was turned into a vast expanse of slush. The expectations of a White Christmas, entertained by old-fashioned people, vanished, and next day it seemed, from the warm humidity of the foggy air, as though the season of Yule had given place to early autumn. Clarice looked out of her bedroom-window on to damp green lawns, from which patches of snow were quickly disappearing, and experienced a sense of discomfort, which she set down to the queer weather. Perhaps the earthquakes in the earlier part of the year had disarranged the English climate and altered the seasons, but assuredly the atmosphere was decidedly unhealthy. Yet the vague fears of the girl may have been less due to the sudden change of temperature than to the feeling of apprehension she entertained, since her conversation with Mr. Clarke, that money matters were not so satisfactory as she had thought them to be.