“You have made a capital guess of it, Arthur.  I have been putting forth every energy of late to win a priceless treasure, and after a desperate effort, have succeeded.  Is not that a subject for congratulation?”

“At last, at last, she is won,” inwardly murmured poor Arthur, while his whole frame seemed convulsed, but controlling himself, as he observed his companion’s glance fixed eagerly upon him, he replied, in a tone which, in spite of his efforts, sounded cold and somewhat ungracious.

“I shall be a better judge of that, Clifford, when I know what the nature of the prize, and whether it was valuable enough to warrant the efforts put forth to obtain it.”

“=Valuable=, there is no boon on earth to be compared to it.  I might exhaust comparisons in vain to furnish a fit simile; for, in it, is combined all that is lovely, virtuous and excellent.  To descend, however, from parable, in order to enlighten you, allow me to say,” and a slight flush mounted to the speaker’s face, while his companion’s cheek grew ashy pale, “that I have been so truly fortunate as to secure a place in the affections of a woman, to my mind, the loveliest of her sex.  But, happy as I am in obtaining such an avowal, there is one drawback to my felicity; her consent must be ratified, so she affirms, by a beloved relative, before I am to consider it binding.  And I—­do you know, Arthur—­I never dreamed I was a coward until now; but it seems such presumption in me to expect a man to part with a flower that he has tenderly nurtured and cherished, that it may adorn with its beauty and grace another homestead, far removed, perhaps, from the eyes that delighted to watch its expanding charms.”

“This suspense is intolerable,” murmured Arthur Bernard to himself, while in blissful unconsciousness his companion went on.  “Why does he not speak her name out clearly, and put an end to this torture, which racks every nerve of my frame?”

“And now, Arthur, I want your advice.  Woman-hater as you are,”—­Clifford said with a smile.

“I suppose Agnes told him that, she thought so herself, no doubt,” was Arthur’s mental parenthesis.

“Woman-hater as you are, I know you deem my hopes and fears as both unfounded; but, never mind, you will, I trust, know by experience some day or other, so, in consideration of that coming, happy time, will you inform me in what terms I can possibly have the presumption, to request of the lady’s relative, that he graciously permit her to bestow her hand upon your humble servant?”

“I do not foresee any difficulty,” said Arthur, with a tremulous effort at composure.  “The lady’s consent once secured, I should think all others of comparatively little moment, and with the knowledge that her happiness depends on their sanction, it will, I believe, be readily accorded.”

“How happy you make me, my dear fellow, though you did deliver that speech, as though you were negotiating some bank business.  And so, you would advise me to put a bold face on the matter, and say to them, ’she is mine, and I will have her.’”