“Have you ever seen the—­the guidance?”

“Not in person.  I seldom enter a theatre now.  But I am of course familiar with her appearance from the photographic portraits of her.  They are in all the shop windows.”

“Yes.  I think I have noticed them.”

“And now, Mrs. Douglas, I fear I have paid you a very long visit.”

“Why dont you come oftener?”

“I wish I could find time.  I have not so much leisure for enjoyment as I used.”

“I am not so sure of that.  But we are always glad to have a chat with one another, I know.  We are agreed about the dear children, I think?”

“Cordially.  Cordially.  Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

CHAPTER VIII

On the morning of the first Friday in May Marian received this letter: 

“Uxbridge Road, Holland Park, W.

“DEAR MISS LIND:  I must begin by explaining why I make this communication to you by letter instead of orally.  It is because I am about to ask you to do me a favor.  If you asked me to do anything for you, then, no matter how much my judgment might protest against my compliance, I could not without pain to myself refuse you face to face.  I have no right to assume that your heart would plead on my behalf against your head in this fashion; but, on the other hand—­the wish is father to the thought here—­I have no right to assume that it would not.  Therefore, to spare you all influences except the fair ones of your own interest and inclination, I make my proposal in writing.  You will please put the usual construction on the word ‘proposal.’  What I desire is your consent to marry me.  If your first impulse now is to refuse, I beg you to do so in plain terms at once, and destroy this letter without reading further.  If you think, on the contrary, that we could achieve a future as pleasant as our past association has been—­to me at least, here is what, as I think, you have to consider.

“You are a lady, rich, well-born, beautiful, loved by many persons besides myself, too happily circumstanced to have any pressing inducement to change your condition, and too fortunately endowed in every way to have reason to anticipate the least difficulty in changing it to the greatest worldly advantage when you please.

“What I am and have been, you know.  I may estrange from you some of the society which you enjoy, and I can introduce you to none that would compensate you for the loss.  I am what you call poor:  my income at present does not amount to much more than fifteen hundred pounds; and I should not ask you to marry me if it were not that your own inheritance is sufficient, as I have ascertained, to provide for you in case of my early death.  You know how my sister is situated; how your family are likely to feel toward me on her account and my own; and how impatient I am of devoting much time