Before Tom left the house, after the reading of the will, he again invited his sister to his own home. An hour or two had intervened since he had told her of her position in the world, and he was astonished at finding how composed and self-assured she was in the tone and manner of her answer. “No, Tom, I think I had better not,” she said. “Sarah will be somewhat disappointed.”

“You need not mind that,” said Tom.

“I think I had better not. I shall be very glad to see her if she will come to me; and I hope you will come, Tom; but I think I will remain here till I have made up my mind what to do.” She remained in Arundel Street for the next three months, and her brother saw her frequently; but Mrs Tom Mackenzie never went to her, and she never went to Mrs Tom Mackenzie. “Let it be even so,” said Mrs Tom; “they shall not say that I ran after her and her money. I hate such airs.” “So do I, mamma,” said Mary Jane, tossing her head. “I always said that she was a nasty old maid.”

On that same day,—the day on which the will was read,—Mr Handcock had also come to her. “I need not tell you,” he had said, as he pressed her hand, “how rejoiced I am—for your sake, Margaret.” Then she had returned the pressure, and had thanked him for his friendship. “You know that I have been made executor to the will,” he continued. “He did this simply to save you from trouble. I need only promise that I will do anything and everything that you can wish.” Then he left her, saying nothing of his suit on that occasion.

Two months after this,—and during those two months he had necessarily seen her frequently,—Mr Handcock wrote to her from his office in Somerset House, renewing his old proposals of marriage. His letter was short and sensible, pleading his cause as well, perhaps, as any words were capable of pleading it at this time; but it was not successful. As to her money he told her that no doubt he regarded it now as a great addition to their chance of happiness, should they put their lots together; and as to his love for her, he referred her to the days in which he had desired to make her his wife without a shilling of fortune. He had never changed, he said; and if her heart was as constant as his, he would make good now the proposal which she had once been willing to accept. His income was not equal to hers, but it was not inconsiderable, and therefore as regards means they would be very comfortable. Such were his arguments, and Margaret, little as she knew of the world, was able to perceive that he expected that they would succeed with her.