bella applied her handkerchief to her eyes.

'Without an endeavour, even, to ascertain, by some indirect appeal, what
were the old man's sentiments on a point in which he would naturally
feel much interested?' said the stranger.

'I cannot deny it, Sir,' said Arabella.

'And without having sufficient property of your own to afford your
husband any permanent assistance in exchange for the worldly advantages
which you knew he would have gained if he had married agreeably to his
father's wishes?' said the old gentleman. 'This is what boys and girls
call disinterested affection, till they have boys and girls of their
own, and then they see it in a rougher and very different light!'

Arabella's tears flowed fast, as she pleaded in extenuation that she was
young and inexperienced; that her attachment had alone induced her to
take the step to which she had resorted; and that she had been deprived
of the counsel and guidance of her parents almost from infancy.

'It was wrong,' said the old gentleman in a milder tone, 'very wrong. It
was romantic, unbusinesslike, foolish.'

'It was my fault; all my fault, Sir,' replied poor Arabella, weeping.

'Nonsense,' said the old gentleman; 'it was not your fault that he
fell in love with you, I suppose? Yes it was, though,' said the old
gentleman, looking rather slily at Arabella. 'It was your fault. He
couldn't help it.'

This little compliment, or the little gentleman's odd way of paying
it, or his altered manner--so much kinder than it was, at first--or all
three together, forced a smile from Arabella in the midst of her tears.

'Where's your husband?' inquired the old gentleman, abruptly; stopping a
smile which was just coming over his own face.

'I expect him every instant, sir,' said Arabella. 'I persuaded him to
take a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched at not having
heard from his father.'

'Low, is he?' said the old gentlemen. 'Serve him right!'

'He feels it on my account, I am afraid,' said Arabella; 'and indeed,
Sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means of bringing him
to his present condition.'

'Don't mind it on his account, my dear,' said the old gentleman. 'It
serves him right. I am glad of it--actually glad of it, as far as he is
concerned.'

The words were scarcely out of the old gentleman's lips, when footsteps
were heard ascending the stairs, which he and Arabella seemed both to
recognise at the same moment. The little gentlema