Curwen herself was not an American, but a north-country Englishwoman, who had used her pretty looks and sharp wits to captivate the rich American, and she took Mercy into her confidence one day to an extent that had results.

"I am very fond of you, Mercy dear, and would give much to have you as my sister; but your brother, Lascelles, is too formal, too stiff in the backbone, for me. I have made one marriage for a reason that wasn't love: but I married an old man; and when I marry again it won't be for either position or money. I should dearly love to have you for my sister, as I say, but I could not marry your brother Lascelles. Ferdinand is just awfully nice—but I suppose he's a dreadful scapegrace."

"I am very fond of you, Mercy dear, and would give much to have you as my sister; but your brother, Lascelles, is too formal, too stiff in the backbone, for me. I have made one marriage for a reason that wasn't love: but I married an old man; and when I marry again it won't be for either position or money. I should dearly love to have you for my sister, as I say, but I could not marry your brother Lascelles. Ferdinand is just awfully nice—but I suppose he's a dreadful scapegrace."

I think Mercy laughed hugely at this—her merry heart laughs at most things—and certainly, when she told me—as being my best particular chum she was bound to do immediately—we laughed heartily over it together.

I think Mercy laughed hugely at this—her merry heart laughs at most things—and certainly, when she told me—as being my best particular chum she was bound to do immediately—we laughed heartily over it together.

"She's a bright, jolly, little soul and beastly rich, but I'm not having any," said I, shaking my head.  "I don't want to cut out poor old Cello"—this was an unrighteous nickname of ours for Lascelles, with a covert reference to his deep, solemn, twangy voice.  "But you'd better tell the father."

"She's a bright, jolly, little soul and beastly rich, but I'm not having any," said I, shaking my head.  "I don't want to cut out poor old Cello"—this was an unrighteous nickname of ours for Lascelles, with a covert reference to his deep, solemn, twangy voice.  "But you'd better tell the father."

"You might do worse, Nand," declared my sister. "Her wealth would give you just the chance you want; and it would be awfully jolly to have a rich brother, and she's a good sort; and you could settle down and——"

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