ts
envelope and returned it to Bell.

"It is, at any rate, a good letter, and, as I believe, tells the
truth."

"I think it tells a little more than the truth, mamma. As you say,
it is a well-written letter. He always writes well when he is in
earnest. But yet--"

"Yet what, my dear?"

"There is more head than heart in it."

"If so, he will suffer the less; that is, if you are quite resolved
in the matter."

"I am quite resolved, and I do not think he will suffer much. He
would not, I suppose, have taken the trouble to write like that, if
he did not wish this thing."

"I am quite sure that he does wish it, most earnestly; and that he
will be greatly disappointed."

"As he would be if any other scheme did not turn out to his
satisfaction; that is all."

The letter, of course, was from Bell's cousin Bernard, and containing
the strongest plea he was able to make in favour of his suit for her
hand. Bernard Dale was better able to press such a plea by letter
than by spoken words. He was a man capable of doing anything well in
the doing of which a little time for consideration might be given to
him; but he had not in him that power of passion which will force a
man to eloquence in asking for that which he desires to obtain. His
letter on this occasion was long, and well argued. If there was
little in it of passionate love, there was much of pleasant flattery.
He told Bell how advantageous to both their families their marriage
would be; he declared to her that his own feeling in the matter had
been rendered stronger by absence; he alluded without boasting to his
past career of life as her best guarantee for his future conduct; he
explained to her that if this marriage could be arranged there need
then, at any rate, be no further question as to his aunt removing
with Lily from the Small House; and then he told her that his
affection for herself was the absorbing passion of his existence.
Had the letter been written with the view of obtaining from a third
person a favourable verdict as to his suit, it would have been a very
good letter indeed; but there was not a word in it that could stir
the heart of such a girl as Bell Dale.

"Answer him kindly," Mrs Dale said.

"As kindly as I know how," said Bell. "I wish you would write the
letter, mamma."

"I fear that would not do. What I should say would only tempt him to
try again."

Mrs Dale knew very well,--had known for some months past,--that
Bernard's suit was