“You understand, my love,” he said, “that I am not anticipating Frank’s living in idleness on his wife’s means?  My plan for him is that he should still profit by the interest which his present employers take in him.  Their knowledge of affairs in the City will soon place a good partnership at his disposal, and you will give him the money to buy it out of hand.  I shall limit the sum, my dear, to half your fortune; and the other half I shall have settled upon yourself.  We shall all be alive and hearty, I hope”—­he looked tenderly at his wife as he said those words—­“all alive and hearty at the year’s end.  But if I am gone, Magdalen, it will make no difference.  My will—­made long before I ever thought of having a son-in-law divides my fortune into two equal parts.  One part goes to your mother; and the other part is fairly divided between my children.  You will have your share on your wedding-day (and Norah will have hers when she marries) from my own hand, if I live; and under my will if I die.  There! there! no gloomy faces,” he said, with a momentary return of his every-day good spirits.  “Your mother and I mean to live and see Frank a great merchant.  I shall leave you, my dear, to enlighten the son on our new projects, while I walk over to the cottage—­”

He stopped; his eyebrows contra cted a little; and he looked aside hesitatingly at Mrs. Vanstone.

“What must you do at the cottage, papa?” asked Magdalen, after having vainly waited for him to finish the sentence of his own accord.

“I must consult Frank’s father,” he replied.  “We must not forget that Mr. Clare’s consent is still wanting to settle this matter.  And as time presses, and we don’t know what difficulties he may not raise, the sooner I see him the better.”

He gave that answer in low, altered tones; and rose from his chair in a half-reluctant, half-resigned manner, which Magdalen observed with secret alarm.

She glanced inquiringly at her mother.  To all appearance, Mrs. Vanstone had been alarmed by the change in him also.  She looked anxious and uneasy; she turned her face away on the sofa pillow—­turned it suddenly, as if she was in pain.

“Are you not well, mamma?” asked Magdalen.

“Quite well, my love,” said Mrs. Vanstone, shortly and sharply, without turning round.  “Leave me a little—­I only want rest.”

Magdalen went out with her father.

“Papa!” she whispered anxiously, as they descended the stairs; “you don’t think Mr. Clare will say No?”

“I can’t tell beforehand,” answered Mr. Vanstone.  “I hope he will say Yes.”

“There is no reason why he should say anything else—­is there?”

She put the question faintly, while he was getting his hat and stick; and he did not appear to hear her.  Doubting whether she should repeat it or not, she accompanied him as far as the garden, on his way to Mr. Clare’s cottage.  He stopped her on the lawn, and sent her back to the house.