Notwithstanding such an unpromising condition of his affairs, even if fully known to Mr. Lester, that gentleman would not have strongly opposed a union of his daughter with Mr. Fenwick, had he been a man of strong mind, intelligence, energy, and high-toned principles—­for he was philosopher enough to know that these will elevate a man under any circumstances.  But Fenwick had no decided points in his character.  He had limited intelligence, and no energy arising from clear perceptions and strong resolutions.  He was a man fit to captivate a young and innocent girl, but not to hold the affection of a generous-minded woman.

In the natural order of events, such a circumstance as a marriage union between the daughter of Mr. Lester, and an individual like Fenwick, was not at all likely to occur.  But a meddlesome woman, who, by the accident of circumstances, had found free access to the family of Mr. Lester, set herself seriously at work to interfere with the orderly course of things, and effect a conjunction between two in no way fitted for each other, either in external circumstances or similarity of character.  But let us trace the progress of this artificial passion, fanned into a blaze by the officious Mrs. Martindale.  After having agitated the heart of Mary with the idea of being beloved, while she coolly calculated its effects upon her, the match-monger sought an early opportunity for another interview with Fenwick.

“I have seen Mary since we last met,” she said.

“Well, do you think I have any thing to hope?”

“Certainly I do.  I mentioned your name to her on purpose, and I could see that the heart of the dear little thing began to flutter at the very sound; and when I bantered her, she blushed, and was all confusion.”

“When shall I be able to meet her again?”

“Next week, I think.  There is to be a party at Mrs. Cameron’s and as I am a particular friend of the family, I will endeavour to get you an invitation.”

“Mary is to be there, of course?”

“Certainly.”

“Are you sure that you can get me invited?”

“Yes, I think so.  Mrs. Cameron, it is true, has some exclusive notions of her own; but I have no doubt of being able to remove them.”

“Try, by all means.”

“You may depend on me for that,” was Mrs. Martindale’s encouraging reply.

The evening of Mrs. Cameron’s party soon came around.  Mrs. Martindale had been as good as her word, and managed to get Fenwick invited, although he had never in his life met either Mr. or Mrs. Cameron.  But he had no delicate and manly scruples on the subject.  All he desired was to get invited; the way in which it was done was of no consequence to him.