hat
vexed question of Aunt Winterfield's legacy, which had by this time
drifted into Belton's hands, and as to which he was inclined to act
in accordance with his cousin's wishes, though he was assured by Mr.
Green that the legacy was as good a legacy as had ever been left by
an old woman. "I think," he said in his last letter, "that we shall
be able to throw him over in spite of Mr. Green." Clara, as she read
this, could not but remember that the man to be thrown over was the
man to whom she had been engaged, and she could not but remember also
all the circumstances of the intended legacy,--of her aunt's death,
and of the scenes which had immediately followed her death. It was so
odd that William Belton should now be discussing with her the means
of evading all her aunt's intentions,--and that he should be doing
so, not as her accepted lover. He had, indeed, called himself her
brother, but he was in truth her rejected lover.

From time to time during these weeks Mrs. Askerton would ask her
whether Mr. Belton was coming to Belton, and Clara would answer her
with perfect truth that she did not believe that he had any such
intention. "But he must come soon," Mrs. Askerton would say. And when
Clara would answer that she knew nothing about it, Mrs. Askerton
would ask further questions about Mary Belton. "Your cousin must know
whether her brother is coming to look after the property?" But Miss
Belton, though she heard constantly from her brother, gave no such
intimation. If he had any intention of coming, she did not speak
of it. During all these days she had not as yet said a word of
her brother's love. Though his name was daily in her mouth,--and
latterly, was frequently mentioned by Clara,--there had been no
allusion to that still enduring hope of which Will Belton himself
could not but speak,--when he had any opportunity of speaking at all.
And this continued till at last Clara was driven to suppose that Mary
Belton knew nothing of her brother's hopes.

But at last there came a change,--a change which to Clara was as
great as that which had affected her when she first found that
her delightful cousin was not safe against love-making. She had
made up her mind that the sister did not intend to plead for her
brother,--that the sister probably knew nothing of the brother's
necessity for pleading,--that the brother probably had no further
need for pleading! When she remembered his last passionate words, she
could not but a