“Mother,” he said, as soon as he could find himself alone with Lady Ball that day, not waiting for the midnight conference; “mother, I may as well tell you at once. I have proposed to Margaret Mackenzie again to-day.”

“Oh! very well.”

“And she has accepted me.”

“Accepted you! of course she has; jumped at the chance, no doubt. What else should a pauper do?”

“Mother, that is ungenerous.”

“She did not accept you when she had got anything.”

“If I can reconcile myself to that, surely you can do so. The matter is settled now, and I think I have done the best in my power for myself and my children.”

“And as for your mother, she may go and die anywhere.”

“Mother, that is unfair. As long as I have a house over my head, you shall share it, if you please to do so. If it suits you to go elsewhere, I will be with you as often as may be possible. I hope, however, you will not leave us.”

“That I shall certainly do.”

“Then I hope you will not go far from me.”

“And when is it to be?” said his mother, after a pause.

“I cannot name any day; but some time before the 10th of August.”

“Before the 10th of August! Why, that is at once. Oh! John; and your father not dead a year!”

“Margaret has a home now with her cousins in Cavendish Square; but she cannot stay there after they go to Scotland. It will be for her welfare that she should be married from their house. And as for my father’s death, I know that you do not suspect me of disrespect to his memory.”

And in this way it was settled at the Cedars; and his mother’s question about the time drove him to the resolution which he himself had not reached. When next he was in Cavendish Square he asked Margaret whether she could be ready so soon, and she replied that she would be ready on any day that he told her to be ready.

Thus it was settled, and with a moderate amount of nuptial festivity the marriage feast was prepared in Mrs Mackenzie’s house. Margaret was surprised to find how many dear friends she had who were interested in her welfare. Miss Baker wrote to her most affectionately; and Miss Todd was warm in her congratulations. But the attention which perhaps surprised her most was a warm letter of sisterly affection from Mrs Stumfold, in which that lady rejoiced with an exceeding joy in that the machinations of a certain wolf in sheep’s clothing had been unsuccessful. “My anxiety that you should not be sacrificed I once before evinced to you,” said Mrs Stumfold; “and within the last two months Mr Stumfold has been at work to put an end to the scurrilous writings which that wolf in sheep’s clothing has been putting into the newspapers.” Then Mrs Stumfold very particularly desired to be remembered to Sir John Ball, and expressed a hope that, at some future time, she might have the honour of being made acquainted with “the worthy baronet.”