"No," said Mrs. Cameron, hesitating, but with a flash of pride in her
eyes as she went on. "No. I cannot deny that my niece is descended
from those who, in point of birth, were not unequal to your own
ancestors. But what of that?" she added, with a bitter despondency of
tone. "Equality of birth ceases when one falls into poverty,
obscurity, neglect, nothingness!"

"Really this is a morbid habit on your part. But, since we have thus
spoken so confidentially, will you not empower me to answer the
question which will probably be put to me, and the answer to which
will, I doubt not, remove every obstacle in the way of my happiness?
Whatever the reasons which might very sufficiently induce you to
preserve, whilst living so quietly in this place, a discreet silence
as to the parentage of Miss Mordaunt and your own,--and I am well
aware that those whom altered circumstances of fortune have compelled
to altered modes of life may disdain to parade to strangers the
pretensions to a higher station than that to which they reconcile
their habits,--whatever, I say, such reasons for silence to strangers,
should they preclude you from confiding to me, an aspirant to your
niece's hand, a secret which, after all, cannot be concealed from her
future husband?"

"From her future husband? of course not," answered Mrs. Cameron. "But
I decline to be questioned by one whom I may never see again, and of
whom I know so little. I decline, indeed, to assist in removing any
obstacle to a union with my niece, which I hold to be in every way
unsuited to either party. I have no cause even to believe that my
niece would accept you if you were free to propose to her. You have
not, I presume, spoken to her as an aspirant to her hand. You have
not addressed to her any declaration of your attachment, or sought to