The Yale expositor., 1895-11-15
81 A.COWAN DOYLE

wish you both to marry, but stfll
should like a suggestion from you,
Clara, as TO what should do"
"But there is no hurry, papa. Let us
wait do not intend to marry yet"
Doctor Walker looked disappointed.
well, Clara, if you can suggest moth
Ing, l suppose that I must take the in
itiative myself" said he.
t'Then what do you propose, papa?"
she braced herself as one who sees the
blow which is about to fall
He looked at her and hesitated. "How
like your poor dear mother you are,
Clara! he cried. AS / looked at you
then IL was as II she had come back
from the grave" He stopped toward
her and kissed her. There, run away to
. your sister. my dear. and do not trou-
BILE yourself about me. Nothing is set
tied yet, but you will find that all will
come right"
Clara went upstairs sad at heart, for
she was sure now that what she had
reared was indeed about TO come TO
pass, and that her father was going to
take Mrs. WeStmacott to be his wife.
In her pure and earnest mind her moth
er's memory was enshrined as that of
a saint, and the thought that any one
should take her place seemed n terrible
dissertation. Even worse, however, did
this marriage appear when looked at
from the point of view Of her fathers
future. The widow might fascinate him
by her knowledge Of the world, her
dash, her strength, her unconvention-
ality-all these qualities Clara was will
ing TO allow her-but she was convinced
that she would be uncomfortable as a life
companion. She had come to an age
when habits are not lightly 10 be
changed, nor was she a woman who was
at all likely to attempt to change them.
How would sensitive man like her
rather stand the constant strain of such
wife. woman who was all decision,
with no softness. and nothing soothing
in her nature? 1t passed as a mere &C.
centricity when they heard Of her stout
drinking, her cigarette smoking. her
occasional whifs at long clay pipe, her
horsewhipping Of a drunken servant,
and her companionship with the snake
Eliza, whom she was I'm the habit Of
bearing about in her pocket. All this
would become uncomfortable to her faith
er when his first infatuation was past.
For his own sake, then, as we'll as for
her mothers memory, this match must
be prevented. And yet how powerless
she was TO prevent it, What could she
do? Could Harold aid her? Perhaps. or
Ida? At least she would tell her sister
and see what she could suggest.
Ida was in her boudoir, a tiny little
tapestried room, as neat and dainty as
herself, with low walls hung with
Imari plaques and with pretty little
Swiss brackets bearing blue Kaga ware
n. h0
low chair. beneath a red-shaded stand
ing lamp, sat Ida, in a diaphanous even
ing dress of mousseline de sole, the rud-
dy light tinging her sweet, chlld-like
face, and glowing on her golden curls
She sprang up as her sister entered
and threw her arms around her.
Dear old Clara Come and sit down
here beside me. 1 have not had a chat
for days. But. oh, what a troubled face.
What is II them" She put up her fore
finger and smoothed her sisters brow
with it,
Clara pulled up a stool, and sitting
down beside her sister, passed her arm
round her waist. II am so sorry to
trouble you, dear Ida" she said. But
l do not know what to do"
There's nothing the matter with
! Harold?"
"Oh. no, Ida"
Nor with my Charles?"
mo, no."
Ida gave sigh of relief. "You quite
! frightened me, dear" said she. You
can't think how solemn you look. What
! is 1t, then?"
II believe that papa intends to ask
| Mrs. Westmacott to marry him"
Ida burst out laughing. What can
have put such a notion into your head,
! Clara?"
1T is only too true. Ida. 1 suspected
| It before, and he himself almost told
me as much with his own lips tonight.
/ don't think that 1t is a laughing mat
ter"
Really, could not help It, II you
had told me that those two dear old
ladies opposite, the Misses williams,
were both engaged, you would not have
surprised me more. 1t is really too
| funny"
Funny, Ida! Think Of anyone TAX
ing the place of dear mother"
But her sister was of more practi-
! cal and less sentimental nature. II am
sure said she, that dear mother
would like papa to do whatever would
make him most happy. We shall both
be away. and why should papa not
please HIMSELF"
But think how unhappy he will be.
You know how quiet he his in his ways,
and how even little thing will upset
him. How could he live with a wife
who would make his whole life a series
of surprises? Fancy what a whirlwind
she must be in a house. A man at his
age cannot change his ways. 1 am sure
he would be miserable"
Idas face grew graver. and she pom
dered over the matter for few min
utes. 81 really think that you are right
as usual" said she at last. II admire
Charles aunt very much. you know.
and / think she is very useful and
good person, but / don't think she
would do as a wife for poor, quiet
papa"
"But he will certainly ask her, and /
really think that she intends to accept
him. Then IL would be too late to in
terfere. We have only few days at
the most. And what can we do? How
can we hope to make him change his
| mind?"
Again Ida pondered. "He has never
tried what 1t is to live with n strong
minded woman" said she. "If we could