ot home
that evening. When I remarked that the wealth had been
exhibited to her and not to me, she did not affect to deny
it, but treated that as a matter of no moment. "He wants
a wife, my dear," she said, "and you may pick him up
to-morrow by putting out your hand." When I remarked that
his mind seemed to be intent on low things, and specially
named the muck, she only laughed at me. "Money's never
dirty," she said, "nor yet what makes money." She talks of
taking lodgings in Norwich for the winter, saying that in
her widowed state she will be as well there as anywhere
else, and she wants me to stay with her up to Christmas.
Indeed she first proposed the Norwich plan on the ground
that it might be useful to me,--with a view to Mr
Cheesacre, of course; but I fancy that she is unwilling
to tear herself away from Captain Bellfield. At any rate
to Norwich she will go, and I have promised not to leave
her before the second week in November. With all her
absurdities I like her. Her faults are terrible faults,
but she has not the fault of hiding them by falsehood. She
is never stupid, and she is very good-natured. She would
have allowed me to equip myself from head to foot at her
expense, if I would have accepted her liberality, and
absolutely offered to give me my trousseau if I would
marry Mr Cheesacre.

I live in the hope that you will come down to the old
place at Christmas. I won't offend you more than I can
help. At any rate he won't be there. And if I don't see
you there, where am I to see you? If I were you I would
certainly not go to Cheltenham. You are never happy there.

Do you ever dream of the river at Basle? I do;--so often.

Most affectionately yours,

KATE VAVASOR.

Alice had almost lost the sensation created by the former portion of
Kate's letter by the fun of the latter, before she had quite made
that sensation her own. The picture of the Cambridgeshire Eden would
have displeased her had she dwelt upon it, and the allusion to the
cream and toast would have had the very opposite effect to that which
Kate had intended. Perhaps Kate had felt this, and had therefore
merged it all in her stories about Mr Cheesacre. "I will go to
Cheltenham," she said to herself. "He has recommended it. I shall
never be his wife;--but, till we have parted altogether, I will show
him that I think well of his advice." That same