Ralph Raymond's Heir

"If you had been, would I have accepted your invitation this evening, Mr. Cromwell?"

"Then you do like me a little?" he said, overjoyed.

"Perhaps, a little," she said, coquettishly.

After some time, Clara thought it polite to confess that she had herself no particular objections to him as a husband,—a confession which filled the enamored druggist with delight—"but," she proceeded, "I cannot marry without my father's approval."

"But do you think he will object to me?" asked Cromwell, in dismay.

"Papa is a very peculiar man," answered Clara. "I never can undertake to say beforehand how he will look upon any proposition. Perhaps he may give his consent at once, or perhaps it may take considerable time to persuade him. I cannot tell. But whatever he decides, I cannot disobey him."

"Not if your own happiness depended upon it?"

"No," said Clara, who played the rôle of a dutiful daughter for this occasion; "I can't go against papa's wishes."

"May I call upon him, and ask his consent?"

"Perhaps that will be the best way."

"I will ask to-morrow."

"Is it necessary to be in such haste, Mr. Cromwell?"

"I cannot rest until I know. I cannot remain in suspense. Will you allow me to call to-morrow?"

"Yes, I think so," said Clara, coquettishly, "that is, if I do not change my mind during the night."

By such speeches as these she added fuel to the flame of her lover's adoration, and increased his impatience to obtain a favorable decision.

When Clara returned home her father happened to be still up. He had become interested in something that he was reading, and this caused him to defer his hour of retiring.

"Well, papa," said Clara, taking off her bonnet, "I've got some news for you."

"What is it?"

"I've had an offer."

"An offer? Who from?"

"Oh, from that ridiculous druggist, Cromwell."

"Well, what did you say?"

"I referred him to you. He's going to call to-morrow."

"Well, what shall I say? Just give me instructions. Do you love him?"

"Stuff and nonsense, papa! As if anybody could! Such a ridiculous creature as he is!"

"Then I am to decline the honor of his relationship?"

"Not exactly."

"But you don't love him?"

"That is not necessary in marriage. Thank Providence, I am not sentimental, and never shall break my heart for love. When I marry I want to marry a man who has got some money. Just find out if he's worth ten thousand dollars. If he is and will agree to settle half of it on me, I will become Mrs. Cromwell whenever he says the word. Otherwise, I won't. But of course, this must be your condition, not mine. I am supposed to be perfectly indifferent to money matters. I dare say I shall rail against you on account of your mercenary spirit, if he can't meet the condition, and comes to complain to me. You won't mind that, will you?"

"Not a particle. Rail away, if you think best. It won't break any bones."

"Well, I am rather tired, and will go to bed. Good-night, papa! Just let my suitor understand that you are inexorable, will you?"

"Very good. I understand you."

Clara Manton retired, and slept considerably better than her lover, whose suspense kept him awake half the night.

CHAPTER XVI.

A MERCENARY PARENT

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?"