"What do I want?" said Saxby.

"Yes. Why do you come hanging about here like this? Do you want to marry the girl?"

"Well--er--yes, my dear madam; to be candid, that is what I thought.

For ever since the day when I first set--"

"Thank you: that will do, Saxby. Rhapsodies do sound such silly stuff to people at my age. Really, if you talk like that, I shall feel as if it would be madness to come to consult you again on business."

"But really, my dear madam--"

"Yes," said Aunt Sophia, interrupting; "I know. Well, then, we'll grant that you like her."

"Like her, madam? I worship her?"

"No: don't, my good man. Let's be sensible, if we can. My niece Naomi is a very nice, amiable, good girl."

"She's an angel, ma'am!"

"No; she is not," said Aunt Sophia stiffly; "and so the man who marries her will find. She's only a nice English girl, and I don't want her feelings hurt by any one."

"Miss Raleigh, it would be my study to spare her feelings in every way."

"If you had the opportunity, my good man. As it happens, I must speak plainly to you, and tell you that I am afraid she has formed an attachment to Mr Prayle."

"To him!" groaned Saxby.

"Now, look here, Mr Saxby; if you are going to act sensibly, I'll talk to you; if you are going on like that, I've done. This is not part of a play."

"Yes, ma'am, it is," said Saxby dolefully; "the tragedy of my life."

"Now, don't be a goose, Saxby. If the girl likes somebody else better than you, don't go making yourself miserable about it. Have some common-sense."

Saxby shook his head.

"There's no common-sense in love."

Aunt Sophia looked at him in a half-pitying, half-contemptuous manner.

"It isn't very deep, is it?" she said good-humouredly.

"I don't know," he said; "only, that somehow she's seemed to me to be like the flowers; and when I've gone to my office every morning, I've bought a rose or something of that kind, and put it in water, and it's been company to me, as if she were there all the time. And now, after what you've told me, ma'am, I don't think I shall ever buy a rose again." He got up, walked to the window and looked out, so that Aunt Sophia should not see his face.

"Poor fellow!" she said softly to herself, and it was evident that her sympathies were touched.

"Mr Prayle has not spoken to Naomi yet," she said, and there was a smile in her eye as she saw the sudden start that Saxby gave, and the look of hope that came back into his countenance as he turned round and faced her.

"Does he--does he--care for her very much?" said Saxby.

Aunt Sophia hesitated for a few moments, and then seemed to make up her mind. "I don't know," she said; "but I'll speak plainly to you, Saxby, for I like you."

"You--Miss Raleigh!--you--like--me?"

"Yes. Why shouldn't I?"

"Because--because--"

"Yes; I know. Because you opposed me sometimes. Well, a woman likes to be opposed. Some stupid people say that a woman likes to have her own way in everything. It isn't true. She likes to find some one who will and who does master her. It's her nature, Saxby, and whenever you find anyone who a.s.serts the contrary, set him or her down as ignorant or an impostor."

"But don't raise my hopes, Miss Raleigh, don't, pray, if there's no chance for me."

"I'm not going to raise your hopes--not much. I shall only say to you, that I am sorry about my niece's leanings, and that, perhaps, after all, it is but a girlish fancy. If I were a man--"

"Yes, Miss Raleigh, if you were a man?"

"And cared for a woman, I should never give her up till I saw that my case was quite hopeless."

"Miss Raleigh," cried the stockbroker excitedly, "your words are like fresh air in a hot office. One thinks more clearly; life seems better worth living for; and there's a general rise of one's natural stock all over a fellow's market.--Might I kiss your hand?"

"No," cried Aunt Sophia; "but you may behave sensibly. Stop down a day or two, and see how the land lies."

"May I?"

"Yes; I'll answer for your welcome.--And now, mind this: I'm not going to interfere with my niece and her likes and dislikes; but let me give you a bit of advice."

"If you would!" exclaimed Saxby.

"Then don't go about sighing like a bull-goose. Women don't care for such weak silly creatures. Naomi's naturally weak, and what she looks for in a man is strength both in brain and body."

"Yes, I see," said Saxby sadly. "I under stand stocks and shares, but I don't understand women."

"Of course you don't. No man yet ever did; not even Solomon, with all his experience; and no man ever will."

"But, I thought, Miss Raleigh--I hoped--"

"Well, what did you think and hope?"

"That you might help me--as an old and trustworthy friend--about Miss Naomi."

"Why, bless the boy--man, I mean--if I were to tell Naomi to love you, or that she was to be your wife, she'd do as all girls do."

"What's that, Miss Raleigh?"

"What's that? Why, go off at a tangent, whatever that may be, and marry Prayle at once."

"Ah, yes, I suppose so," faltered Saxby.

"Well, well, pluck up your spirits, man, and be what you are at your office. I do trust you Saxby; and to show you my confidence, I'll tell you frankly that I should be deeply grieved if anything came of her leanings towards that smooth, good-looking fellow.--There, what stuff I am talking. You ought to be able to get on without advice from me."

Then Aunt Sophia smiled and nodded her head at the stockbroker, after which she sailed out of the room, leaving him hopeful and ready to take heart of grace, even though just then he saw Arthur Prayle go by in company with the object of his aspirations. Certainly, though, Lady Scarlett, was with them; while directly after, Sir James Scarlett pa.s.sed, hanging upon Scales's arm; and the aspect of the baronet's face startled Saxby, who was clever enough at reading countenances, possessing as he did all the shrewdness of the dealer in questions of the purse. For in that face he read, or fancied he read, hopeless misery, jealousy, and distrust mingled in one.