Then an idea came into his head. If this money was not hers, it was his. If it was not his, then it was hers. Would it not be well that they should solve all the difficulty by agreeing then and there to be man and wife? It was true that since his Rachel’s death he had seen no woman whom he so much coveted to have in his home as this one who now leaned on his arm. But, as he thought of it, there seemed to be a romance about such a step which would not befit him. What would his mother and father say to him if, after all his troubles, he was at last to marry a woman without a farthing? And then, too, would she consent to give up all further consideration for her brother’s family? Would she agree to abandon her idea of assisting them, if ultimately it should turn out that the property was hers? No; there was certainly a looseness about such a plan which did not befit him; and, moreover, were he to attempt it, he would probably not succeed.

But something must be done, now at this moment. The guinea at the Shadrach was gone for ever, and therefore he could devote himself for the day to his cousin.

“Are you to hear again from Mr Slow?” he said.

“I am to go to him this day week.”

“And then it will be decided?”

“John, it is decided now; I am sure of it. I feel that it is all gone. A careful man like that would never have spoken as he did, unless he was sure. It will be all yours, John.”

“So would have been that which your brother had,” said he.

“I suppose so. It is dreadful to think of; very dreadful. I can only promise that I will spend nothing till it is decided. John, I wish you would take from me what I have, lest it should go.” And she absolutely had her hand upon her purse in her pocket.

“No,” said he slowly, “no; you need think of nothing of that sort.”

“But what am I to do? Where am I to go while this week passes by?”

“You will stay where you are, of course.”

“Oh John! if you could understand! How am I to look my aunt in the face. Don’t you know that she would not wish to have me there at all if I was a poor creature without anything?” The poor creature did not know herself how terribly heavy was the accusation she was bringing against her aunt. “And what will she say when she knows that the money I have spent has never really been my own?”

Then he counselled her to say nothing about it to her aunt till after her next visit to Mr Slow’s and made her understand that he, himself, would not mention the subject at the Cedars till the week was passed. He should go, he said, to his own lawyer, and tell him the whole story as far as he knew it. It was not that he in the least doubted Mr Slow’s honesty or judgment, but it would be better that the two should act together. Then when the week was over, he and Margaret would once more go to Lincoln’s Inn Fields.