articular delicacy of feeling to prevent his alluding
to topics which might be avoided by more sensitive men. He contrived to
see Arnold alone, and then, rudely, for he did not care to mince his
words, used expressions the reverse of truthful, which led Arnold, whose
faith was already wavering in the balance, to feel almost certain that
Frances never had cared for him, and never would do so. He then spoke of
Fluff, praising her enthusiastically, and without stint, saying how
lucky he considered the man who won not only a beautiful, but a wealthy
bride, and directly suggested to Arnold that he should go in for her.

"She likes you now," said the squire; "bless her little heart, she'd
like any one who was kind to her. She's just the pleasantest companion
any man could have--a perfect dear all round. To tell the truth, Arnold,
even though she is my daughter, I think you are well rid of Frances."

"I'm ashamed to hear you say so, sir. If what you tell me is true, your
daughter has scarcely behaved kindly to me; but, notwithstanding that, I
consider Frances quite the noblest woman I know."

"Pshaw!" said the squire. "You agree with Fluff--she's always praising
her, too. Of course, I have nothing to say against my daughter--she's my
own uprearing, so it would ill beseem me to run her down. But for a
wife, give me a fresh little soft roundabout, like Fluff yonder."

Arnold bit his lip.

"You have spoken frankly to me, and I thank you," he said. "If I am so
unfortunate as not to win Miss Kane's regard, there is little use in my
prolonging my visit here; but I have yet to hear her decision from her
own lips. If you will allow me, I will leave you now, squire, for I
promised Miss Danvers to spend some of this afternoon with her by the
river."

"With Fluff? Little puss--very good--very good--Ah!

'The time I've spent in wooing'

never wasted, my boy--never wasted. I wish you all success from the
bottom of my heart."

"Insufferable old idiot!" growled Arnold, under his breath.

But he was thoroughly hurt and annoyed, and when he saw Frances, could
not bring himself even to say a word to her.

The squire went back to the house to enjoy his afternoon nap, and to
reflect comfortably on the delicious fact that he had done himself a
good turn.

"There is no use playing with edge tools," he murmured. "Frances means
well, but she confessed to me she loved him. What more likely, then,
that she would accept him, and, notw