you can't want me to go away and leave you.'

'How will you do very well? I'm sure I don't know. And if your aunt
Winterfield means to provide for you, it would only be kind in her to
let me know it, so that I might not have the anxiety always on my mind.'

Clara knew well enough what was to be the disposition of her aunt's
property, but she could not tell her father of that now. She almost
felt that it was her duty to do so, but she could not bring herself to
do it. She could only beg him not to be anxious on her behalf, making
vague assurances that she would do very well. 'And are you determined
not to change your mind about Will?' he said at last.

'I shall not change my mind about that, papa, certainly,' she answered.
Then he turned away from her, and she saw that he was displeased.

When alone, she was forced to ask herself why it was that she was so
certain. Alas! there could in truth be no doubt on that subject in her
own mind. When she sat down, resolved to give herself an answer, there
was no doubt. She could not love her cousin, Will Belton, because her
heart belonged to Captain Aylmer.

But she knew that she had received nothing in exchange for her heart.
He had been kind to her on that journey to Taunton, when the agony
arising from her brother's death had almost crushed her. He had often
been kind to her on days before that so kind, so soft in his manners,
approaching so nearly to the little tenderness of incipient
love-making, that the idea of regarding him as her lover had of
necessity forced itself upon her. But in nothing had he gone beyond
those tendernesses, which need not imperatively be made to mean