de no objection. She now heartily
wished that she had named the day after the funeral, and that she
had not been deterred by her dislike of making a Sunday journey. She
dreaded this day, and would have been very thankful if he would have
left her and gone back to London. But he intended, he said, to remain
at Perivale throughout the next week, and she must endure the day as
best she might be able. She wished that it were possible to ask Mr.
Possitt to his accustomed dinner; but she did not dare to make the
proposition to the master of the house. Though Captain Aylmer had
declared Mr. Possitt to be a very worthy man, Clara surmised that he
would not be anxious to commence that practice of a Sabbatical dinner
so soon after his aunt's decease. The day, after all, would be but
one day, and Clara schooled herself into a resolution to bear it with
good humour.

Captain Aylmer had made a positive promise to his aunt on her
deathbed that he would ask Clara Amedroz to be his wife, and he had
no more idea of breaking his word than he had of resigning the whole
property which had been left to him. Whether Clara would accept him
he had much doubt. He was a man by no means brilliant, not naturally
self-confident, nor was he, perhaps, to be credited with the
possession of high principles of the finest sort; but he was clever,
in the ordinary sense of the word, knowing his own interest, knowing,
too, that that interest depended on other things besides money; and
he was a just man, according to the ordinary rules of justice in the
world. Not for the first time, when he was sitting by the bedside of
his dying aunt, had he thought of asking Clara to marry him. Though
he had never hitherto resolved that he would do so--though he had
never till then brought himself absolutely to determine that he would
take so important a step--he had pondered over it often, and was
aware that he was very fond of Clara. He was, in truth, as much in
love with her as it was in his nature to be in love. He was not a
man to break his heart for a girl;--nor even to make a strong fight
for a wife, as Belton was prepared to do. If refused once, he might
probably ask again,--having some idea that a first refusal was not
always intended to mean much,--and he might possibly make a third
attempt, prompted by some further calculation of the same nature. But
it might be doubted whether, on the first, second, or third occasion,
he would throw much passion into his word