as Miss Bygrave?" "In her own room." "Where was Mrs.
Bygrave?" "In the back parlor." Captain Wragge turned his steps at once
in the latter direction, and found his wife, for the second time, in
tears. She had been sent out of Magdalen's room for the whole day,
and she was at her wits' end to know what she had done to deserve it.
Shortening her lamentations without ceremony, her husband sent her
upstairs on t he spot, with instructions to knock at the door, and
to inquire whether Magdalen could give five minutes' attention to a
question of importance which must be settled before two o'clock.

The answer returned was in the negative. Magdalen requested that the
subject on which she was asked to decide might be mentioned to her in
writing. She engaged to reply in the same way, on the understanding that
Mrs. Wragge, and not the servant, should be employed to deliver the note
and to take back the answer.

Captain Wragge forthwith opened his paper-case and wrote these lines:
"Accept my warmest congratulations on the result of your interview
with Mr. N. V. He is coming again at two o'clock--no doubt to make his
proposals in due form. The question to decide is, whether I shall press
him or not on the subject of settlements. The considerations for your
own mind are two in number. First, whether the said pressure (without at
all underrating your influence over him) may not squeeze for a long
time before it squeezes money out of Mr. N. V. Secondly, whether we are
altogether justified--considering our present position toward a certain
sharp practitioner in petticoats--in running the risk of delay. Consider
these points, and let me have your decision as soon as convenient."

The answer returned to this note was written in crooked, blotted
characters, strangely unlike Magdalen's usually firm and clear
handwriting. It only contained these words: "Give yourself no trouble
about settlements. Leave the use to which he is to put his money for the
future in my hands."

"Did you see her?" asked the captain, when his wife had delivered the
answer.

"I tried," said Mrs. Wragge, with a fresh burst of tears--"but she only
opened the door far enough to put out her hand. I took and gave it a
little squeeze--and, oh poor soul, it felt so cold in mine!"

When Mrs. Lecount's master made his appearance at two o'clock, he stood
alarmingly in need of an anodyne application from Mrs. Lecount's green
fan. The agitation of making his avowal to Magda