reasonably enough when she said her fortune would be acceptable to
Doctor Morton. He made no secret of the fact that it would be very
acceptable, and Mr. Bellairs--though, for his own part, he would have
married his charming Elise with exactly the same eagerness if she had
been penniless--was too sensible to be at all displeased with his future
brother-in-law's clear and straightforward manner of treating so
important a subject. It is true that his brains and his diploma were
almost all the capital the young man had to bring on his side, but
these, had their acknowledged value, and, after all, Bella was very
nearly of age, and it would be rather a comfort to see her safely
disposed of, instead of having to give up her guardianship into her own
giddy keeping.

Mr. Bellairs' office was a small wooden-frame building containing two
rooms. In the outer one half-a-dozen budding lawyers, in various stages,
sat at their desks; the inner one, where the two gentlemen discussed
their arrangements, was small, and contained only a stove, a
writing-table, two chairs, and some cupboards. Mr. Bellairs sat at the
table with a pile of papers before him: in the second chair--an easy
one--Doctor Morton lounged, and amused himself while he talked, by
tracing the pattern of the empty stove with the end of a small cane. He
was a good-looking young man, with very black eyes, and a small black
beard; of middle height and strongly built, and noted in Cacouna as the
boldest rider, the best swimmer, and one of the best shots, in the
neighbourhood.

A little stir, and a loud rough voice speaking in the outer office, was
followed by the entrance of a clerk.

"Here is Clarkson, sir. Says he must see you."