"I have been allowed to say nothing," said Belton; "those people have said eight,—and so it is settled. When are you coming over to see Mary?"
To this question he got no definite answer, and as he went away immediately afterwards he hardly seemed to expect one. He did not even ask for Mrs. Askerton, and as that lady remarked, behaved altogether like a bear. "But what a munificent bear!" she said. "Fancy;—eight hundred a year of your own. One begins to doubt whether it is worth one's while to marry at all with such an income as that to do what one likes with! However, it all means nothing. It will all be his own again before you have even touched it."
"You must not say anything more about that," said Clara gravely.
"And why must I not?"
"Because I shall hear nothing more of it. There is an end of all that,—as there ought to be."
"Why an end? I don't see an end. There will be no end till Belton of Belton has got you and your eight hundred a year as well as everything else."
"You will find that—he—does not mean—anything—more," said Clara.
"You think not?"
"I am—sure of it." Then there was a little sound in her throat as though she were in some danger of being choked; but she soon recovered herself, and was able to express herself clearly. "I have only one favour to ask you now, Mrs. Askerton, and that is that you will never say anything more about him. He has changed his mind. Of course he has, or he would not come here like that and have gone away without saying a word."
"Not a word! A man gives you eight hundred a year, and that is not saying a word!"