cesses of his heart there glimmered yet, unquenched, a spark of love for her, the idol of his youth? It was not unlikely, she thought; he was very romantic, as she remembered him, just the sort of man in whom commerce with the world would be insufficient to blot out early impressions, to efface cherished ideals.
Could it be possible that the great crisis in her life was yet to come? That the opportunity was yet to be given her of having wealth and position, and, to share them with her, a husband whom she could love, and of whom she could be proud? Her happiness seemed almost too great; and yet it was there on the cards before her. Forgetting all she had done, and shutting her eyes to the fact that she herself had made an enormous gulf between them, she blindly argued to herself that it was impossible such love as Walter Joyce's for her could ever be wholly eradicated, that some spark of its former fire must yet remain in its ashes, and needed but tact and opportunity on her part to fan it again into a flame. What would not life be, then, were that accomplished? She had been pleased with the notion of entering society as Mr. Creswell's wife (poor, prosaic Mr. Creswell!), but as the wife of Walter Joyce, who was, according to Mr. Gould, one of the most rising men of the day, and who would have her fortune at his back to further his schemes and advance his interests, what might not be done! Marian glowed with delight at this ecstatic day-dream; sat cherishing it for hours, thinking over all kinds of combinations; finally put it aside with the full determination to take some steps towards seeing Walter Joyce at once.
How lucky it was, she thought, that she had behaved amiably on the announcement of Gertrude Creswell's marriage, and not, as she had felt inclined at first to do, returned a savage, or at best a formal, answer! These people, these Benthalls, were just those through whose agency her designs must be carried out. They were very friendly with Walter, and of course saw something of him; indeed, she had heard that he was expected down to stay at Helmingham, so soon as he could get away from London. If she played her cards well—not too openly at first, but with circumspection—she might make good use of these people; and as they would not be too well off, even with the interest of Gertrude's money, if they had a family (and this sort of people, poor parsons and schoolmasters—James Ashurst's daughter had already learned to speak in that way—always had a large number of children) she might be able, in time, to buy their services and mould them to her will.
It was under the influence of such feelings that Marian had determined on being exceedingly polite to the Benthalls, and she regretted very much that she had been away from home when they called on her. She wrote a note to that effect to Mrs. Benthall, and intimated her intention of returning the visit almost immediately. Mrs. Benthall showed the note to her husband, who read it and lifted his eyebrows, and asked his wife what it meant, and why the widow had suddenly become so remarkably attached to them. Mrs. Benthall professed her inability to answer his question, but remarked that it was a good thing that "that" was all settled between Maud and Walter, before Walter came in madam's way again.
"But he isn't likely to come in her way again," said the Reverend George.
"I don't know that," said Gerty; "this sudden friendship for us looks to me very much as though"
"You don't mean to say you think Mrs. Creswell intends making a convenience of us?" asked Mr. Benthall.
"I think she did so intend," said Gertrude; "but she"
"We'll have nothing of that sort!" cried Mr. Benthall, going through that process which is known as "flaring-up;" "we can get on well enough without her, and her presents, and if"
"Ah, you silly thing," interrupted Gertrude, "don't you see that when Walter marries Maud, there will be an end of any use to which we could be put by Mrs. Creswell, even if we were not going away to the Newmanton living in a very few weeks? You may depend upon it, that as soon as she hears the news—and I will take care to let her know it when she calls here—she will gracefully retire, and during the remainder of our stay in Helmingham we shall see very little more of the rich widow."
On the night of his acceptance by Maud Creswell, Walter wrote a long letter to Lady Caroline. He wrote it in his room, the old room in which he used to sleep in his usher days, when all the household was in bed, after an evening passed by him in earnest conversation with Maud and Gertrude, while Mr. Benthall busied
