“But he would do his very best to make you happy.”
“I am so much obliged to him; but you see, I am very happy as I am. What should I gain?”
“A companion whom you confess that you like.”
“Ah! but I don’t know that I should like too much even of such a companion as your brother. No, my dear—it won’t do. Believe me when I tell you, once for all, that it won’t do.”
“Do you mean, then, Miss Dunstable, that you’ll never marry?”
“To-morrow—if I met any one that I fancied, and he would have me. But I rather think that any that I may fancy won’t have me. In the first place, if I marry any one, the man must be quite indifferent to money.”
“Then you’ll not find him in this world, my dear.”
“Very possibly not,” said Miss Dunstable.
All that was further said upon the subject need not be here repeated. Mrs. Harold Smith did not give up her cause quite at once, although Miss Dunstable had spoken so plainly. She tried to explain how eligible would be her friend’s situation as mistress of Chaldicotes, when Chaldicotes should owe no penny to any man: and went so far as to hint that the master of Chaldicotes, if relieved of his embarrassments and known as a rich man, might in all probability be found worthy of a peerage when the gods should return to Olympus. Mr. Harold Smith, as a cabinet minister, would, of course, do his best. But it was all of no use. “It’s not my destiny,” said Miss Dunstable, “and therefore do not press it any longer.”
“But we shall not quarrel,” said Mrs. Harold Smith, almost tenderly.