"I am doing nothing of the kind," said Clara. "How can you speak in that way to me so soon after my father's death? It is a rebuke to me for being here at all."
"I intend no rebuke, as you well know. What I mean is this; if you do not stay in Yorkshire till you are married, let the time be when it may, where do you intend to go in the meantime?"
"My plans are not settled yet."
"She will have this house if she pleases," said Will. "There will be no one else here. It will be her own, to do as she likes with it."
"She will hardly come here,—to be alone."
"I will not be inquired into, my dear," said Clara, speaking with restored good-humour. "Of course I am an unprotected female, and subject to disadvantages. Perhaps I have no plans for the future; and if I have plans, perhaps I do not mean to divulge them."
"I had better come to the point at once," said Mrs. Askerton. "If—if—if it should ever suit you, pray come here to us. Flowers shall not be more welcome in May. It is difficult to speak of it all, though you both understand everything as well as I do. I cannot press my invitation as another woman might."
"Yes, you can," said Clara with energy. "Of course you can."
"Can I? Then I do. Dear Clara, do come to us." And then as she spoke Mrs. Askerton knelt on the ground at her visitor's knees. "Mr. Belton, do tell her that when she is tired with the grandeur of Aylmer Park she may come to us here."
"I don't know anything about the grandeur of Aylmer Park," said Will, suddenly.