far as I am
concerned, Ida will have this place, which may one day be again more
valuable than it is now."

"I am glad that they meet with your approval," said Edward; "and now
there is one more thing I want to ask you, Mr. de la Molle, and which
I hope, if you give your consent to the marriage, you will not raise
any objection to. It is, that our engagement should not be announced
at present. The fact is," he went on hurriedly, "my father is a very
peculiar man, and has a great idea of my marrying somebody with a
large fortune. Also his state of health is so uncertain that there is
no possibility of knowing how he will take anything. Indeed he is
dying; the doctors told me that he might go off any day, and that he
cannot last for another three months. If the engagement is announced
to him now, at the best I shall have a great deal of trouble, and at
the worst he might make me suffer in his will, should he happen to
take a fancy against it."

"Umph," said the Squire, "I don't quite like the idea of a projected
marriage with my daughter, Miss de la Molle of Honham Castle, being
hushed up as though there were something discreditable about it, but
still there may be peculiar circumstances in the case which would
justify me in consenting to that course. You are both old enough to
know your own minds, and the match would be as advantageous for you as
it could be to us, for even now-a-days, family, and I may even say
personal appearance, still go for something where matrimony is
concerned. I have reason to know that your father is a peculiar man,
very peculiar. Yes, on the whole, though I don't like hole and corner
affairs, I shall have no objection to the engagement not being
announced for the next month or two."

"Thank you for considering me so much," said Edward with a sigh of
relief. "Then am I to understand that you give your consent to our
engagement?"

The Squire reflected for a moment. Everything seemed quite straight,
and yet he suspected crookedness. His latent distrust of the man,
which had not been decreased by the scene of two nights before--for he
never could bring himself to like Edward Cossey--arose in force and
made him hesitate when there was no visible ground for hesitation. He
possessed, as has been said, an instinctive insight into character
that was almost feminine in its intensity, and it was lifting a
warning finger before him now.

"I don't quite know what to say," he replied at length. "The w