"I don't know, I'm sure, but at all events she is an heiress to
quite a tremendous extent. Two hundred thousand pounds, the
Warburtons told me afterwards; even allowing for exaggeration,
still, she must be worth a good deal, and poor dear Maurice, what is
_he_ worth?"

"Is it another riddle?" asks Mrs. Bethune.

"No, no, indeed! The answer is plain to all the world. The
Warburtons didn't know these people, these Boltons (so silly of
them, with a third son still unmarried), but when I heard of her
money I made inquiries. It appeared that she lived with her uncle.
Her father had died early, when she was quite young. Her mother was
dead too; this last was a _great_ comfort. And the uncle had kept
her in seclusion all her life. They are nobodies, dear Marian!
Nobodies at all, but that girl has two hundred thousand pounds, and
can redeem the property of all its mortgages--if only Maurice will
let her do it."

"But how did you ask her here?"

"How? What is simpler? The moment the Warburtons told me of the
wealth that would be that girl's on her marriage (I was careful to
make sure of the marriage point), I felt that an overpowering sense
of gratitude compelled me to go and call on her. She and her uncle
were new-comers in that county, and--it is very exclusive--so that
when I _did_ arrive, I was received with open arms. I was charming
to the old uncle, a frosty sort of person, but not objectionable in
any way, and I at once asked the niece to pay me a visit. They were
flattered, the uncle especially so; I expect he had been wanting to