“Respect and esteem her!—­I should think all who knew her must,” added Drewett, as if determined to win my heart; “and, in my opinion, she was both beautiful and lovely.”

“This from a man who is confessedly an admirer—­nay, engaged to your own sister, as the world says, Hardinge, must be taken as warm praise,” said the third.  “But, I suppose, Drewett sees the dear departed with the eyes of her friend—­for Miss Hardinge was very intimate with her, I believe.”

“As intimate as sisters, and loving each other as sisters,” returned Drewett, with feeling.  “No intimate of Miss Hardinge’s can be anything but meritorious?”

“Grace Wallingford had merit beyond a question,” added Rupert, “as has her brother, who is a good, honest fellow enough.  When a boy, I was rather intimate with him.”

“The certain proof of his excellencies and virtues;” put in the stranger, laughing.  “But, if a ward, there must be a fortune.  I think I have heard these Wallingfords were richish.”

“Yes, that is just it—­richish” said Drewett.  “Some forty or fifty thousand dollars between them, all of which the brother must now inherit; and glad am I it falls to so good a fellow.”

“This is generous praise from you, Drewett; for I have heard this brother might prove your rival.”

“I had some such fears myself, once, I will confess,” returned the other; “but they are all vanished.  I no longer fear him, and can see and acknowledge his merits.  Besides, I am indebted to him for my life.”

“No longer fear him.”—­This was plain enough, and was proof of the understanding that existed between the lovers.  And why should I be feared?—­I, who had never dared to say a word to the object nearest my heart, that might induce her to draw the ordinary distinction between passion and esteem—­love, and a brotherly regard?

“Ay, Drewett is pretty safe, I fancy,” Rupert remarked, laughing; “though it will hardly do for me to tell tales out of school.”

“This is a forbidden subject,” rejoined the lover, “and we will talk of Wallingford.  He must inherit his sister’s fortune.”

“Poor Grace!—­it was little she had to leave, I fancy,” Rupert quietly observed.

“Ay, little in your eyes, Hardinge,” added the third person, “but a good deal in those of her brother, the ship-master, one might think.  Ever since you have fallen heir to Mrs. Bradfort’s estate, a few thousands count for nothing.”

“Were it a million, that brother would think it dearly purchased by the loss of his sister!” exclaimed Drewett.

“It’s plain enough there is no rivalry between Andrew and Miles,” added the laughing Rupert.  “Certainly money is not quite of so much account with me now, as it used to be when I had nothing but a clergyman’s salary to glean from.  As for Mrs. Bradfort’s fortune, it came from a common ancestor, and I do not see who has a better right to it, than those who now enjoy it.”