“I don’t see what you want to marry for; you are much better off as you are,” remarked his sister, ignoring his query.
“There, again, your opinion and mine fail to coincide. I tell you, I am determined to make Miriam Heath my wife—willingly, if possible; otherwise unwillingly.”
“I don’t see how you can force her into it.”
“I think I do; and I want your help in carrying out my scheme.” He then unfolded his plans, and told her her part must be to cultivate the acquaintance of the family, and when an opportunity offered to worm out of Mrs. Heath the desired information. “Remember, she is the one,” he said in conclusion; “the girl and Ronald would be too sharp to give it; the children are too young to know anything about such matters; but the old lady, of course, knows everything; and she is very simple-hearted, frank, and doubtless has entire confidence in you.”
Mrs. Wiley demurred; was not sure it would be quite right to do what he wished—so she said; but the truth of the matter was that she did not want him to marry; for should he remain single, and she outlive him, she would be his natural heir.
He read her motives, and set them aside by remarking that if he could get the desired hold upon Miriam, and she refuse in spite of all to give him her hand, he would add Lakeside to his property.
The pale blue eyes opposite him brightened visibly. “And we might move out there,” she observed, with ill-concealed eagerness. “It’s a lovely place. I have always thought the Heaths very fortunate in owning it. Well, Avery, every one must look after his own interests. I’ll do as you wish.”
“That’s right, Dora,” he returned with satisfaction; “but let me caution you not to broach the subject too soon, lest the old lady should think you prying and be put upon her guard.”
“You may trust me to play my cards skilfully,” she returned, bridling.
“And not to let the grass grow under your feet? Love is impatient, you know.”