Mrs. Nicoll had said, in her caustic way:--

"You make the most of your time, Lily Ludlow. I'm past eighty, and you may find me dead in my bed some morning. I have not a stiver to leave any one; so don't you count on that. I can hardly pay my own way."

Still she had every luxury for herself; for years she had considered nothing but her own wants and indulgences.

Poor Jim! In his young mannishness he was quite sure there was no danger of falling in love; of course such a thing would be wildest folly. But Lily was very fascinating and very flattering. She put it on the score of old friendship; but, with a coquette's ardour, she did enjoy the young fellow's struggles to keep himself on a firm footing. And when he saw Gaynor's attentions, and listened to Weir's rhapsodies, a passion of boyish jealousy sprang up in his heart.

Miss Lily kept her other admirers out of the way, except as she might meet them at dances or whist parties. She was not much in love with Mr.

Lewis; he was slow and really conceited, and, for a young man, rather careful of his money. If she only dared run the risk, and take Mr. Weir, who was to finish his college course in the summer! And then arose a new star on her horizon.

Mr. Williamson was forty and a widower; but he drove an elegant pair of bays, belonged to a club, and had apartments at a hotel. She tried captivating simplicity, and succeeded, to her great surprise, though she knew his habits were not irreproachable. She had begged of Mr. Lewis a little time for consideration, when one morning Mr. Williamson astonished her by a call, and an offer of his hand and fortune.

Miss Ludlow did not show her amazement, neither did she jump at the offer. She was very delicately surprised. Was he quite certain of his wishes? And--it was so unexpected!

So certain indeed that he would bring her a ring that very afternoon, and take her out driving,--a man of his years not to know his own mind!

She could hardly believe her good fortune. For a fortnight she engineered her way skilfully, still keeping Mr. Lewis in reserve. And then she was convinced, and dismissed him.

"Guess who is engaged?" Harry Gaynor cried, one morning. "I never was so beat in my life! Jim, maybe this will hit you hard. Seems to me you've been rather distraught of late and sighing like a furnace."

"These exams are enough to make any one sigh. And I am way behind. I must study day and night."

"There are always engagements at this season, and weddings at Easter,"

returned Weir, laughingly.

"That isn't guessing, Jim!"

"Oh, bother! What do I care?"

"Then your charmer told you last night?"

"My charmer? What are you driving at, Gaynor?"

"Oh, how innocent! Miss Lily Ludlow."

"I've met that Lewis there," returned Jim, with an air of bravado, though he flushed a little. "He's a regular stick."

"But it isn't Lewis. It's that Gerald Williamson,--a man about town. And the queer thing is that he thinks he has struck a fortune. Do _you_ know, Jim? Is she to be the old lady's heir?"

Jim was silent. What should he say?

"Of course she is," said Weir. "That is--I think it depends on whether Mrs. Nicoll approves of the marriage."

He had turned very pale.

"Are you sure it is Williamson?" asked Jim.

"He announced it himself. My cousin heard him. And as for the old lady--the house is willed away. I've heard some talk; I can't just remember what. She's been shrewdly giving the impression."

"It would be a shame to sell her to the highest bidder! And Williamson's double her age. No sister of mine would be allowed to do such a thing.

She can't love him! Why, she has only been driving out with him a few times."

"If she's sold, she has done the business herself. She's a girl to look out for the main chance. Weir, I hope you haven't been hovering too near the flame. The Ludlow is capital to flirt with,--quick, spicy, sentimental by spells, not the kind of a girl to waste herself on a young, impecunious fellow like our friend Jim, here, so he goes scot-free. Weir, I hope you're not hard hit. We've all had a good time; but I think now we must address ourselves to the examinations in hand, and let the girls go. Though I am in for two big weddings, presently."

There was a summons to the class-room that stopped the chaffing. Jim felt very sober. Lily had indirectly led him to think she cared a great deal about him, and if matters only _were_ a little different! He ought not to get engaged; but the preference was flattering when a man like Weir was head over heels in love with her!

But to marry an old man like Gerald Williamson! thought the young fellow, disdainfully.

CHAPTER XVI

COUNTING UP THE COST

Jim failed miserably. What was the matter? He couldn't seem to remember the simplest thing. Did it make any difference to him whom she married?

Well--if it _had_ been Weir; but that imperious, pretentious, half-dissipated Williamson, who report said had run though with one fortune, and two years ago had fallen heir to another! Why were some people so lucky! Grandmother Van Kortlandt had some money; but Hanny was named for her, and Joe was a great favourite. Then Jim flushed hotly.

The idea of counting on any one's money!

Still he had a boyish, chivalric idea that he would like to snatch Lily from this awful peril, as it seemed to him. Could it be really true? The older men said Williamson was a braggart. There might be no truth in it.

He would ask Lily.

Several days passed before Jim achieved his desire. Then, as he loitered around one afternoon, he saw Williamson leave the house. After a few moments he knocked.

"Miss Lily is indisposed, and cannot see any one," announced the maid.

"She will see me," returned Jim, with an air of dignity; and he walked into the parlour that had an atmosphere of twilight, quite determined to remain until she came down.

She seemed in no hurry, and Jim's temper began to loose its serenity.

The maid came and lighted the gas jet in the hall. Then there was a rustle of silken garments on the stair.

"Oh, Jim dear," the entreating voice said, "I've had such a horrid headache all the afternoon. I've been in the bed. I really did not feel fit to see any one," with a languid, indifferent air.

And Williamson had just gone away!

"So you will excuse me, if I'm stupid--"

"Is the story true about your--your engagement?" asked the young fellow, abruptly.

"My engagement? Well, I've had an offer of marriage,--two of them.

Wouldn't you advise me to take the best one?" rather archly.

The tone rang flippantly. Jim felt she was evading.

"You see I can't be young always. And Aunt Nicoll may go without a moment's warning. She had a bad spell yesterday; and she does get in such horrid tantrums! Mother is awfully tired of staying with her. And most girls get married--those who have a chance." She ended with a forced little laugh.

"Is it Williamson? You don't know the sort of man he is," and Jim's voice was husky with emotion.