“Did his grandfather receive him kindly?”

“Very much so, he says.  Maurice is like his mother, and that pleased the old man greatly.  He introduced him to everybody as his heir.”

“Instead of saying ‘Poor Maurice,’ you ought to say ‘Lucky Maurice.’  His head will be quite turned.”

Mrs. Bellairs smiled.  “No fear,” she answered.  “His heart is in Canada still, and that will keep his head steady.”

“What does he say to this move of the Costellos?”

“How can he say anything?  It is not three weeks since your marriage, and they knew nothing of it themselves then.”

“True, I forgot.  I feel as if I had been married a year.”

“Not complimentary to the Doctor, if his company is what has made the time seem so long.”

“You know very well I don’t mean that—­only I feel quite settled down into a married woman.”

“Do you really?  No one would guess it.  But what can our two husbands be doing all this time?”

“Here they come.  Positively stopping in the hall for a few last words.  Treason, no doubt, or they would come in at once, and let us hear.”

Treason it was in one sense certainly, for the two gentlemen were discussing a subject which they knew would be displeasing to Bella, if not to both their wives, and which they meant to keep carefully to themselves.  It related to Bella’s unprofitable farm on Beaver Creek, which her husband was resolved to turn to better account, and from which he had, immediately after his marriage, desired Mr. Bellairs to use the shortest method of ejecting the tenants who now occupied it.  Something had already been done, but Doctor Morton fancied too tardily, and he had been urging upon his brother-in-law more vigorous measures.  The conclusion of their conversation was this:—­

“And I wish, if possible, you would let Clarkson understand that it is quite useless to send his wife to plague Bella.  She agrees with me that women had better always leave business to their husbands, and I have no intention of letting her be humbugged out of her property.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Bellairs, not altogether pleased with this speech, “only I warn you, Clarkson is an awkward fellow to deal with, and if you do turn him out, you may expect him to revenge himself in any and every way he can.”

Doctor Morton laughed.  “I give him leave,” he said.  “As long as Bella knows nothing of the matter, it will not trouble me.”

With that he opened the door, and came into the room where his bride sat entirely unsuspicious of his intentions, or of the way in which her own innocent words had been made use of.