energy, on the subject of her father's honour, as romance, though he
could not help believing _she_ was in earnest about it. He thought it
was perfectly in accordance with the old miser's character, that he
should procure or make such a document; though he considered it very
extraordinary, for many reasons, that it should have imposed upon men
more penetrating and learned than himself.

Sarah Bond, after his departure, endeavoured to conceal her anxiety
from her niece; but in vain. Mabel was too clear-sighted; and it was
a relief, as much as an astonishment to her aunt, to see how bravely
she bore up against the evil news. Miss Bond did not remember that the
knowledge of the _power_ of wealth does not belong to sixteen summers.
Mabel knew and thought so little of its artificial influence, that
she believed her happiness sprang from birds and flowers, from music,
and dancing, and books--those silent but immortal tongues that live
through centuries, for our advantage; besides, her young heart welled
forth so much hope, that she really did not understand, even if they
lost their fortune, their "troublesome fortune," as she called
it, that it would seriously affect their happiness. There was no
philosophy, no heroism in this; it was simply the impulse of a bright,
sunny, beautiful young mind.

The course of events promised soon to strip Mabel of all except her
own bright conceptions. Mr. Alfred Bond urged on his plea with all the
energy and bitterness of one who had been for many years despoiled
of his right. His solicitor, soon after his claim was first declared,
made an offer to Sarah Bond to settle an annuity on her and her niece
during the term of their natural lives; but this was indignantly
spurned by Sarah; from him she would accept no favour; she either had
or had not a right to the whole of the property originally left to