ed man.

He was still standing there when Mr. Amedroz came down into the
hall, dressed for dinner, and saw his figure through the open doors.
"Will," he said, coming up to him, "it only wants five minutes to
dinner." Belton started and shook himself, as though he were shaking
off a lethargy, and declared that he was quite ready. Then he
remembered that he would be expected to dress, and rushed up-stairs,
three steps at a time, to his own room. When he came down, Clara and
her father were already in the dining-room, and he joined them there.

Mr. Amedroz, though he was not very quick in reading facts from the
manners of those with whom he lived, had felt assured that things had
gone wrong between Belton and his daughter. He had not as yet had a
minute in which to speak to Clara, but he was certain that it was so.
Indeed, it was impossible not to read terrible disappointment and
deep grief in the young man's manner. He made no attempt to conceal
it, though he did not speak of it. Through the whole evening, though
he was alone for a while with the squire, and alone also for a time
with Clara, he never mentioned or alluded to the subject of his
rejection. But he bore himself as though he knew and they knew--as
though all the world knew that he had been rejected. And yet he did
not remain silent. He talked of his property and of his plans, and
explained how things were to be done in his absence. Once only was
there something like an allusion made to his sorrow. "But you will be
here at Christmas?" said Mr. Amedroz, in answer to something which
Belton had said as to work to be done in his absence. "I do not know
how that may be now," said Belton. And then they had all been silent.

It was a terrible evening to Clara. She endeavoured to talk, but
found it to be impossible. All the brightness of the last few days
had disappeared, and the world seemed to her to be more sad and
solemn than ever. She had no idea when she was refusing him that he
would have taken it to heart as he had done. The question had come
before her for decision so suddenly, that she had not, in fact, had
time to think of this as she was making her answer. All she had done
was to feel that she could not be to him what he wished her to be.
And even as yet she had hardly asked herself why she must be so
steadfast in her refusal. But she had refused him steadfastly, and
she did not for a moment think of reducing the earnestness of her
resolution. It seemed t