ere hidden, Mary began to complain in a whisper. "This
comes of our clandestine m--. Our very life is a falsehood; concealment
is torture--and degradation."

"I don't feel it. I call this good fun."

"Oh, Walter! Good fun! For shame! Hush!"

Bartley bustled on to the green, called Hope out, and sat down in Colonel
Clifford's chair. Hope came to him, and Bartley, who had in his hand some
drawings of the strata in the coal mine, handed the book to Hope, and
said, "I quite agree with you. That is the seam to follow: there's a
fortune in it."

"Then you are satisfied with me?"

"More than satisfied."

"I have something to ask in return."

"I am not likely to say no, my good friend," was the cordial reply.

"Thank you. Well, then, there is an attachment between Mary and young
Clifford."

Bartley was on his guard directly.

"Her happiness is at stake. That gives me a right to interfere, and say,
'be kind to her.'"

"Am I not kind to her? Was any parent ever kinder? But I must be wise as
well as kind. Colonel Clifford can disinherit his son."

At this point the young people ventured to peep and listen, taking
advantage of the circumstance that both Hope and Bartley were at some
distance, with their backs turned to the workshop.

So they both heard Hope say,

"Withdraw your personal opposition to the match, and the other difficulty
can be got over. If you want to be kind to a young woman, it is no use
feeding her ambition and her avarice, for these are a man's idols. A
woman's is love."

Mary wafted the speaker a furtive kiss.

"To enrich that dear child after your death, thirty years hence, and
break her heart in the flower of her youth, is to be unkind to her; and
if you are unkind to her, our compact is broken."

"Unkind to her," said Bartley. "What male parent has ever been more kind,
more vigilant? Sentimental weakness is another matter. My affection is
more solid. Can I oblige you in anything that is business?"

"Mr. Bartley," said Hope, "you can not divert me from the more important
question: business is secondary to that dear girl's happiness. However, I
have more than once asked you to tell me who is the loser of that large
sum, which, as you and I have dealt with it, has enriched you and given
me a competence."

"That's my business," said Bartley, sharply, "for you never fingered a
shilling of it. So if the pittance I pay you for conducting my business
burns your pocket, why, send it to Rothsc