d, literally
nothing, he was not at all disposed to court her favour at the
expense of such suffering to himself.

"I'm not quite sure that I'll dance myself," said he, seating himself
in a corner of the tent by Mrs Greenow's side. Captain Bellfield at
that moment was seen leading Miss Vavasor away to a new place on
the sands, whither he was followed by a score of dancers; and Mr
Cheesacre saw that now at last he might reap the reward for which he
had laboured. He was alone with the widow, and having been made bold
by wine, had an opportunity of fighting his battle, than which none
better could ever be found. He was himself by no means a poor man,
and he despised poverty in others. It was well that there should be
poor gentry, in order that they might act as satellites to those who,
like himself, had money. As to Mrs Greenow's money, there was no
doubt. He knew it all to a fraction. She had spread for herself, or
some one else had spread for her, a report that her wealth was almost
unlimited; but the forty thousand pounds was a fact, and any such
innocent fault as that little fiction might well be forgiven to a
woman endorsed with such substantial virtues. And she was handsome
too. Mr Cheesacre, as he regarded her matured charms, sometimes felt
that he should have been smitten even without the forty thousand
pounds. "By George! there's flesh and blood," he had once said to his
friend Bellfield before he had begun to suspect that man's treachery.
His admiration must then have been sincere, for at that time the
forty thousand pounds was not an ascertained fact. Looking at the
matter in all its bearings Mr Cheesacre thought that he couldn't do
better. His wooing should be fair, honest, and above board. He was a
thriving man, and what might not they two do in Norfolk if they put
their wealth together?

"Oh, Mr Cheesacre, you should join them," said Mrs Greenow; "they'll
not half enjoy themselves without you. Kate will think that you mean
to neglect her."

"I shan't dance, Mrs Greenow, unless you like to stand up for a set."

"No, my friend, no; I shall not do that. I fear you forget how recent
has been my bereavement. Your asking me is the bitterest reproach to
me for having ventured to join your festive board."

"Upon my honour I didn't mean it, Mrs Greenow. I didn't mean it,
indeed."

"I do not suspect you. It would have been unmanly."

"And nobody can say that of me. There isn't a man or woman in Norfolk
that w