I have surprised your secret unfairly, though with no unfair intention.  My promise not to act hostilely implies that I shall not reveal this conversation to Mrs. Bazalgette; if I did I should launch the deadliest of all enemies—­irritated vanity—­upon you, for she certainly looks on you as her plaything, not her niece’s; and you would instantly be the victim of her spite, and of her influence over Lucy, if she discovered you have the insolence to escape her, and pursue another of her sex.  I shall therefore keep silence and neutrality.  Meantime, in the character, not of her guardian, but of your friend, I do strongly advise you not to think seriously of her.  She will never marry you.  She is a good, kind, amiable creature, but still she is a girl of the world—­has all its lessons at her finger ends.  Bless your heart, these meek beauties are as ambitious as Lucifer, and this one’s ambition is fed by constant admiration, by daily matrimonial discussions with the old stager, and I believe by a good offer every now and then, which she refuses, because she is waiting for a better.  Come, now, it only wants one good wrench—­”

David interrupted him mildly:  “Then, sir,” said he, thoughtfully; “the upshot is that, if she says ‘Yes,’ you won’t say ‘No.’”

The mature merchant stared.

“If,” said he, and with this short sentence and a sardonic grin he broke off trying

“To fetter flame with flaxen band.”

So nothing more was said or done that evening worth recording.

The next day, being the day of the masquerade, was devoted by the ladies to the making, altering, and trying on of dresses in their bedrooms.  This turned the downstairs rooms so dark and unlovely that the gentlemen deserted the house one after the other.  Kenealy and Talboys rode to see a cricket match ten miles off.  Hardie drove into the town of ——­ and David paced the gravel walk in hopes that by keeping near the house he might find Lucy alone, for he was determined to know his fate and end his intolerable suspense.

He had paced the walk about an hour when fortune seemed to favor his desires.  Lucy came out into the garden.  David’s heart beat violently.  To his great annoyance, Mr. Fountain followed her out of the house and called her.  She stopped, and he joined her; and very soon uncle and niece were engaged in a conversation which seemed so earnest that David withdrew to another part of the garden not to interfere with them.

He waited, and waited, and waited till they should separate; but no, they walked more and more slowly, and the conversation seemed to deepen in interest.  David chafed.  If he had known the nature of that conversation he would have writhed with torture as well as fretted with impatience, for there the hand of her he loved was sought in marriage before his eyes, and within a few steps of him.  On such threads hangs human life.  Had he been at the hall door instead of in the garden, he might have anticipated Mr. Fountain.  As it was, Mr. Fountain stole the march on him.