James Cromwell lost no time next morning in waiting upon Mr. Manton. He was in that state when suspense is intolerable, and he wanted to have his fate decided at once. Accordingly, soon after breakfast, he was introduced into the presence of Clara's father, whom he found alone. The young lady, considerately foreseeing the visit, had gone out for a walk.

Mr. Manton was sitting indolently in a rocking-chair, reading.

"Good-morning, Mr. Cromwell," he said. "Take a chair, if you please, and excuse my not rising. I am not young and strong like you, but an invalid."

It may be remarked that Mr. Manton's invalidism proceeded as much from constitutional indolence as from confirmed ill-health, and furnished him an excuse of which he was always ready to avail himself.

"Oh, certainly," said Cromwell, doing as directed. "I have come to see you, Mr. Manton," he proceeded, "on important business."

"Indeed!" said his companion, whose cue was to assume entire ignorance until informed of the nature of his errand.

"You have a daughter," proceeded the young man, nervously.

"Yes, and an excellent girl she is," said Mr. Manton, warmly.

I am sorry to say that this was not Mr. Manton's real opinion. He and Clara, in fact, used to quarrel pretty often in private, and he had more than once styled her a cross-grained vixen and termagant, and used other terms equally endearing. He felt rather rejoiced at the prospect of having her taken off his hands, though, like Clara, he thought it prudent that his prospective son-in-law should be well supplied with the gifts of fortune, that there might be no necessity of contributing to their support from his own income. Of course, it was his policy to speak well of Clara to her lover, and not allude to the little defects of temper of which he knew rather more than he desired.

"Yes," said James Cromwell, fervently, "your daughter is charming, Mr. Manton."

"She is a good girl. It would break my heart to part with her!" said the father.

"You wouldn't object to her being married, would you?" said Cromwell, alarmed at this last statement.

"I suppose she will marry some time," said Mr. Manton. "No, I should not feel it right to interfere with her marrying, if she desired it. Far be it from me to blight her young affections."

"I love her, Mr. Manton. Let her marry me," exploded Cromwell, nervously.

"Really, you surprise me," said Mr. Manton. "You wish to marry Clara?"

"I should consider myself the most fortunate of men if I could win her as my wife," said Cromwell, who talked more freely than usual under the influence of the tender passion.

"You think so; but marriage will cure you of all that," so thought Mr. Manton; but he said:

"Have you spoken with Clara on this subject?"

"Yes."

"And does she return your love?"

"She authorized me to speak to you. If you have no objection, she will give her consent."

"It is an important matter," said Mr. Manton, slowly; "giving away the hand of an only daughter in marriage."

"I will do my utmost to make her happy," said the enamored lover.

"I have no doubt of it. To be sure I have not known you long; but I have formed quite a favorable opinion of you from our brief acquaintance."

This was hardly true; for Mr. Manton had designated James Cromwell as an awkward booby in familiar conversation with his daughter, and she had assented to the justice of the epithet.

"Thank you, sir," said Cromwell; "may I then hope for your consent?"

"Why, you see, Mr. Cromwell," said Mr. Manton, throwing one leg over the other, "there are several things to be taken into consideration besides the personal character of the husband. For instance—I hope you won't think me mercenary—but I want to make sure that you are able to support her in comfort, so that she need not be compelled to endure any of the privations of poverty."

"I have a good business," said Cromwell, "which is sure to bring me in a good income."

"Do you own your shop and stock up clear of incumbrance? Is it all paid for?"

"Yes, sir."

"That is well—for a beginning. Now what property have you besides?"

"Why," said Cromwell, "I make about five hundred dollars clear from my ward, Robert Raymond."

"Indeed! that is handsome. Still, he is likely to be taken from you."

"I don't think he will."

"Still, it is not a certainty. It is not equal to property producing this amount of annual income."

"No; sir; but——"

"Hear me out. There is nothing so substantial as property invested well. A good income is a good thing, but if it comes from anything else it is not sure. Now I will tell you what my intentions have been when anyone applied to me for my daughter's hand, though I did not expect the occasion would come too soon. I meant to say, that is, provided the party was otherwise suitable, 'Are you ready to settle five thousand dollars on my daughter on her wedding day, and will you still have an equal sum left?' That is the question I meant to ask, and I will ask it now of you."

He leaned back in his rocking-chair as he spoke, and fixed a glance of inquiry on James Cromwell. He hoped that the young man would be able to answer in the affirmative, for if Clara could be well married, he would have his income entirely to himself, and he had about made up his mind in that case to go to Europe on a pleasure trip. This he could do without breaking in upon his principal if he went alone; but as long as Clara remained unmarried, he knew that he should be expected to take her with him, and this would involve more expense than he was willing to incur.

James Cromwell was taken aback by this unexpected difficulty.

"I am afraid my means are not sufficient to admit of my doing this, just yet," said Cromwell, reluctantly; "but just as soon as I am able I will agree to make the settlement you propose."

Mr. Manton shook his head.

"I am sorry," he said, and here he only told the truth, "that you are not in a position to comply with my conditions, for they are indispensable. You must not think me mercenary, but I don't believe in love in a cottage! As for Clara, she is a dear, unselfish girl, and she would think me mercenary. She never thinks of money, (I wish she didn't, he mentally added,) and would as soon marry a poor man as a rich man. But I want to guard her against the chances of fortune. So I desire that five thousand dollars should be settled upon herself, so that if her husband should fail in business, and you know such things happen very often, she will have a fund to fall back upon. I am sure you will think I am reasonable in this."

"My business is a very safe one, and the percentage of profit is large," pleaded Cromwell, rather downcast; "and I think there would be no danger of that."

"Yes, of course, you think so. Nobody believes he is going to fail. But disasters come to the best business men."

"Then you insist upon your condition, Mr. Manton," said James Cromwell, in a tone of disappointment.

"I must," said Mr. Manton, with suavity. "Of course, I am sorry to disappoint you, but then the happiness of my daughter is the first consideration with me."

"Perhaps her happiness would best be promoted by marriage."

"She may think so now! but you may depend upon it that the happiest marriages are founded on a solid money basis."

"You haven't any objection to me personally, as a son-in-law?"

"Not the least in the world. My only objection arises from the fact that you are unable to comply with my conditions."

"Supposing, then, I should be able to do so in six months or a year, what would be your answer?"

"I should say, take her, and may you be happy."

"Then," said Cromwell, "I may tell you that, though I am not worth the sum necessary to secure your consent, I have a relative who has me down in his will for a legacy of ten thousand dollars. I don't think he will live long. Within a few months I may be worth the required sum."

"I hope you will, Mr. Cromwell," said Mr. Manton; "when that time comes, come to me again with your suit, and I will grant it, that is, unless Clara has formed another attachment during that time."

Cromwell winced at this suggestion, but he saw that he could accomplish nothing more with the father, and in rather an unsettled frame of mind he took his leave.