Robert Raymond did not propose to rebel against his guardian's arrangements, however disagreeable they were to himself. He had written a letter to Paul Morton, and he hoped that his remonstrance would have some effect. But meanwhile he determined to accept his fate, and act in accordance with the instructions which had been given him.

There was a private school in Madison, kept by a college graduate, and to this school Robert was sent by James Cromwell. He found himself the most advanced pupil in the classics, and he soon found that his teacher's acquirements were far from extensive or thorough. Still he could learn by his own efforts, though not of course, as well as at his former school, and he resolved to make the best of it. Of his connection with the school nothing in particular need be said. He was regular in attendance, and was treated with a degree of deference by the teacher, who perceived that his scholarship was sufficient to enable him to detect his own slender acquirements.

Meanwhile the flirtation between James Cromwell and Clara Manton continued. The young lady was always gracious, and so far as her manner went, might readily be supposed to have formed a decided inclination for her admirer, for such the druggist had now become. She had a certain dash and liveliness of manner which fascinated him, and he felt flattered in no slight degree that such a young lady should have singled him out as her favorite.

Desirous of appearing to the best advantage, he ordered a new suit from the village tailor without regard to expense, but it was beyond the power of any garments, however costly or showy, to set off the peculiar appearance of Cromwell, or make him look well. But Miss Manton smiled sweetly upon him, and he felt himself to be in paradise.

Occasionally the young lady went into his shop on some ostensible errand, and tarried to have a chat. James Cromwell's heart fluttered with delight whenever he saw her face at the door, and during her stay he could attend to nothing else.

One evening there was to be a concert in the village.

James Cromwell brought home tickets, and said diffidently, "Miss Manton, will you do me the favor to accompany me to the concert this evening?"

"Thank you, Mr. Cromwell," she answered, smiling graciously, "I will accept with pleasure. I was wishing to go, but papa does not feel very well to-day, so I had made up my mind that I must pass my time at home. At what hour does the concert commence?"

"At half-past seven."

"Will it be time if I am ready at quarter past?"

"Quite so."

"Then you may depend on me."

Strange as it may appear, it was the first time in his life that James Cromwell ever acted as escort to a lady in visiting a place of public entertainment, and he felt a degree of awkwardness because of that. But when Clara Manton appeared, she was so gracious and sociable, that all his mauvaise haute disappeared, and he walked arm in arm with her, feeling easier and more unembarrassed than he had supposed to be possible. When they entered the hall he glanced around him with pride at the thought it would be perceived that he was the chosen cavalier of such an attractive young lady.

Of the concert it is unnecessary to speak. It closed at a comparatively early hour, and the two wended their way homeward.

"Shall we prolong our walk a little?" he said. "It is still early, and it is very pleasant."

"Yes; that will be pleasant," she returned. "Papa is probably asleep by this time, and won't miss me. What a charming concert we had."

"None of them sang as well as you, Miss Manton," said Cromwell.

"Oh, now you are flattering me, Mr. Cromwell. I cannot permit that, you know," she said, playfully.

"No," he said earnestly, "I am not flattering you, Miss Clara. You are so—so—I hope you'll excuse me, but you are so beautiful and attractive that——"

"Oh, Mr. Cromwell!" uttered Clara; adding to herself, "I dare say he is going to propose. Well, it's just as well now as at any other time. How ridiculous it makes him look, being in love!"

Luckily unconscious of the thoughts that were passing through the mind of his companion, Cromwell burst out, "But it's true, Miss Clara. I love you; and I don't think I can live without you. Will you marry me?"

"I am afraid you have said such things to a great many other young ladies before. How can I believe you are in earnest?"

"No; on my honor," he said earnestly, "I never loved before. Do you doubt the sincerity of my attachment? Don't you think you could look favorably upon my suit?"

"Perhaps I might," she answered, coyly. "That is, in time. It is so sudden, you know. It is not more than a month since I first met you."

"But in that month I have learned to love you better than anyone I ever knew, Miss Clara. Can't you give me some encouragement? Tell me that I am not wholly disagreeable to you?"

"If you had been, would I have accepted your invitation this evening, Mr. Cromwell?"

"Then you do like me a little?" he said, overjoyed.

"Perhaps, a little," she said, coquettishly.

After some time, Clara thought it polite to confess that she had herself no particular objections to him as a husband,—a confession which filled the enamored druggist with delight—"but," she proceeded, "I cannot marry without my father's approval."

"But do you think he will object to me?" asked Cromwell, in dismay.

"Papa is a very peculiar man," answered Clara. "I never can undertake to say beforehand how he will look upon any proposition. Perhaps he may give his consent at once, or perhaps it may take considerable time to persuade him. I cannot tell. But whatever he decides, I cannot disobey him."

"Not if your own happiness depended upon it?"

"No," said Clara, who played the rÔle of a dutiful daughter for this occasion; "I can't go against papa's wishes."

"May I call upon him, and ask his consent?"

"Perhaps that will be the best way."

"I will ask to-morrow."

"Is it necessary to be in such haste, Mr. Cromwell?"

"I cannot rest until I know. I cannot remain in suspense. Will you allow me to call to-morrow?"

"Yes, I think so," said Clara, coquettishly, "that is, if I do not change my mind during the night."

By such speeches as these she added fuel to the flame of her lover's adoration, and increased his impatience to obtain a favorable decision.

When Clara returned home her father happened to be still up. He had become interested in something that he was reading, and this caused him to defer his hour of retiring.

"Well, papa," said Clara, taking off her bonnet, "I've got some news for you."

"What is it?"

"I've had an offer."

"An offer? Who from?"

"Oh, from that ridiculous druggist, Cromwell."

"Well, what did you say?"

"I referred him to you. He's going to call to-morrow."

"Well, what shall I say? Just give me instructions. Do you love him?"

"Stuff and nonsense, papa! As if anybody could! Such a ridiculous creature as he is!"

"Then I am to decline the honor of his relationship?"

"Not exactly."

"But you don't love him?"

"That is not necessary in marriage. Thank Providence, I am not sentimental, and never shall break my heart for love. When I marry I want to marry a man who has got some money. Just find out if he's worth ten thousand dollars. If he is and will agree to settle half of it on me, I will become Mrs. Cromwell whenever he says the word. Otherwise, I won't. But of course, this must be your condition, not mine. I am supposed to be perfectly indifferent to money matters. I dare say I shall rail against you on account of your mercenary spirit, if he can't meet the condition, and comes to complain to me. You won't mind that, will you?"

"Not a particle. Rail away, if you think best. It won't break any bones."

"Well, I am rather tired, and will go to bed. Good-night, papa! Just let my suitor understand that you are inexorable, will you?"

"Very good. I understand you."

Clara Manton retired, and slept considerably better than her lover, whose suspense kept him awake half the night.