."

"I will say nothing. She knows what to do much better than I can tell
her."

Mrs. Askerton was still kneeling, and again appealed to Clara.
"You hear what he says. What do you say yourself? Will you come
to us?--that is, if such a visit will suit you,--in point of
convenience?"

"I will make no promise; but I know no reason why I should not."

"And I must be content with that? Well: I will be content." Then
she got up. "For such a one as I am, that is a great deal. And, Mr.
Belton, let me tell you this;--I can be grateful to you, though you
cannot be gracious to me."

"I hope I have not been ungracious," said he.

"Upon my word, I cannot compliment you. But there is something so
much better than grace, that I can forgive you. You know, at any
rate, how thoroughly I wish you well."

Upon this Clara got up to take her leave, and the demonstrative
affection of an embrace between the two women afforded a remedy for
the awkwardness of the previous conversation.

"God bless you, dearest," said Mrs. Askerton. "May I write to you?"

"Certainly," said Clara.

"And you will answer my letters?"

"Of course I will. You must tell me everything about the place;--and
especially as to Bessy. Bessy is never to be sold;--is she, Will?"
Bessy was the cow which Belton had given her.

"Not if you choose to keep her."

"I will go down and see to her myself," said Mrs. Askerton, "and will
utter little prayers of my own over her horns,--that certain events
that I desire may come to pass. Good-bye, Mr. Belton. You may be as
ungracious as you please, but it will not make any difference."

When Clara and her cousin left the cottage they did not return to the
house immediately, but took a last walk round the park, and through
the shrubbery, and up to the rocks on which a remarkable scene had
once taken place between them. Few words were spoken as they were
walking, and there had been no agreement as to the path they would
take. Each seemed to understand that there was much of melancholy in
their present mood, and that silence was more fitting than speech.
But when they reached the rocks Belton sat himself down, asking
Clara's leave to stop there for a moment. "I don't suppose I shall
ever come to this place again," said he.

"You are as bad as Mrs. Askerton," said Clara.

"I do not think I shall ever come to this place again," said he,
repeating his words very solemnly. "At any rate, I will never do so
willingly, unless--