“First, then, we must leave this place and walk home, for I think people are looking at us,” said Elsie, trying to collect her thoughts; “and then you must tell me what I am to do with Mrs. Peck, if that is her name.  Mrs. Phillips calls her Mrs. Mahoney.  The paper you saw in my hand, which she snatched away, was an agreement to pay a sum of money if we were put in possession of Cross Hall.  If I had signed it, it would have been of no value to her; but I hesitated about it, for I did not like cheating even her, and making her risk bringing herself to justice for nothing.”

“I will go to see her myself, and negotiate for you.  I do not think I should have much scruple in outwitting her, for she really deserves it, and it is only letting her over reach herself.  Will you give me full powers to act for you?”

“Oh, yes,” said Elsie; “if she will only deal with you it will be so much better.”

“Upon the footing on which we stand together at present it is quite right and proper that I should do so,” said Brandon, accepting the responsibilities of his position with great satisfaction.  “You did not get my letter.  Emily and your sister told me you sailed before the mail come in, which contained that painful work of composition.  I wrote to you whenever I got out to Barragong, and saw that I really had not been so nearly ruined as I thought.  I determined to do it on the occasion when I parted with you in the nursery.”

“Shall I say, like Miss Harriett Phillips, that I conquered you by making a ballad in your praise? for these men can be led by nothing so well as by vanity and selfishness.  No, I will not say it, for I do not think you are either vain or selfish.  I should not like you if you were,” said Elsie.

“Say love, Alice, it sounds much sweeter, and goes more to my heart.  You like your cousin, or no-cousin Francis, but you must love me.”

“Well, love be it,” said Alice; “but I really love Francis a good deal, too—­not as I love you, or as I intend to love you, for I really don’t know how I feel just yet, but still not mere liking.”

“I am not at all jealous,” said Brandon, “though all his literary talents and tastes should make me feel my own inferiority.”

“Even Jane never would allow me to say that you were inferior to Francis; she said your talents lay in a different direction.  She was sorry that I refused you, and when I came to know you better I was very sorry myself.”

“When did you begin to soften to me?” asked Brandon.

“When you said Peggy had taught you so much—­when you expressed yourself so warmly and so truly about her.”

“Had she not prejudiced you against me in the first place?” said Brandon, hesitatingly.

“Yes, she had,” said Elsie, with still greater hesitation.

“By something that she said of me?  It was too true I deserved it; but the lesson she taught me has never been forgotten.  I do not say that I deserve you, but I mean to try my best to deserve you.  But was that your only reason for refusing me?”