share of his uncle's means. Nor could she account for this interview on
any other supposition than that Mr. Ainslie knew of the intentions of
Walter towards his daughter, and that he took this early opportunity of
intimating that a disinherited young man, of the grade of a merchant's
clerk, would not, as a son-in-law, suit the expectations of an ambitious
writer. Yet out of this interview there came to, if not drawn by, her
fancy a glimmer of hope, inasmuch as, if the young man were rejected by
the notary in consequence of the ban of disinheritance, he would be left
to the attractions of her wealth; but this supposition involved the
assumption that her triumph would be over a mind that was mercenary, and
not over a heart predisposed to love; nay, her generosity revolted at
the thought of gratifying her long-concealed passion at the expense of
the sacrificed love of another. That other, too, had a better right to
the object than she herself, in so far that Agnes Ainslie's love had
been returned, while hers had not. But these speculations were to be
brought to the test by words and actions.

No sooner had Mr. Ainslie left than Rachel was visited in her private
parlour by Walter Grierson himself. He had seldom taken that liberty
before, for her secret passion had been ruled by a stern virtue. A
natural shyness, remote from coyness, demanded the conciliation of
respect, though ready at a moment to pass into the generosity of
confidence where she was certain of a return; but his presence before
her might have been accounted for by his appearance, which was that of
one whose excitement was only attempted to be overborne by an effort--a
result more mechanical than spiritual. His manner, not less than his
countenance, composed to gravity, was belied by the tremulous light of
his eye; and as he seized her hand and pressed it fervently, she could
feel that his trembled more than her own. Her manner was also
embarrassed, as it well might be, where so many conflicting feelings,