It was noticeable that as the ladies became more confidential with their lovers, they had less to say to each other; and it began at last to be quite evident to the real widow that the play must end for the present, or the denouement would come prematurely.  Circumstances favored her determination.  One night Clementine, with a radiant face, came into her friend’s room, and said, “Fan, I have something to tell you.  Cleve has asked me to marry him.”

“Now, Clement, you have told him all; I know you have.”

“Not a word, Fan.  He still believes me the widow Clare.”

“Did you accept him?”

“Conditionally.  I am to give him a final answer when we go to the city in October.  You are going to New York this winter, are you not?”

“Yes.  Our little play progresses finely.  John Selden asked me to be his wife to-night.”

“I told you men think and act in pairs.”

“John is a noble fellow.  I pretended to think that his cousin had ill-used him, and he defended him until I was ashamed of myself; absolutely said, Clement, that you were a sufficient excuse for Mr. Clare’s will.  Then he blamed his own past idleness so much, and promised if I would only try and endure ‘the slings and arrows’ of your outrageous temper, Clement, for two years longer, he would have made a home for me in which I could be happy.  Yes, Clement, I should marry John Selden if we had not a five-dollar bill between us.”

“I wish Cleve had been a little more explicit about his money affairs.  However, there is time enough yet.  When they leave to-morrow, what shall we do?”

“We will remain here another month; Levine will have the house ready for me by that time.  I have written to him about refurnishing the parlors.”

So next day the lovers parted, with many promises of constant letters and future happy days together.  The interval was long and dull enough; but it passed, and one morning both gentlemen received notes of invitation to a small dinner party at the widow Clare’s mansion in ——­ street.  There was a good deal of dressing for this party.  Cleve wished to make his entrance into his future home as became the prospective master of a million and a half of money, and John was desirous of not suffering in Clement’s eyes by any comparison with the other gentlemen who would probably be there.

Scarcely had they entered the drawing-room when the ladies appeared, the true widow Clare no longer in the unassuming toilet she had hitherto worn, but magnificent in white crepe lisse and satin, her arms and throat and pretty head flashing with sapphires and diamonds.  Her companion had assumed now the role of simplicity, and Cleve was disappointed with the first glance at her plain white Chambery gauze dress.

John had seen nothing but the bright face of the girl he loved and the love-light in her eyes.  Before she could speak he had taken both her hands and whispered, “Dearest and best and loveliest Clement.”