That cross old thing, Colonel
Clifford, had been heard to sneer at her dear father, and say unkind and
disrespectful things--that the love of money led to loss of money, and
that papa might just as well dig a well and throw his money into that.
She herself was sorry he had not waited for Mr. Hope's return before
undertaking so serious a speculation. Warmed by this preliminary, she
ventured into the delicate subject, and told him the substance of what we
have told the reader, only in a far more timid and suggestive way, and
implored him to advise her by return of post if possible--or why not
come home? Papa had said only yesterday, "I wish Hope was here." She got
an answer by return of post. It disappointed her, on the whole. Mr. Hope
realized the whole situation, though she had sketched it faintly instead
of painting it boldly. He was all sympathy, and he saw at once that he
could not himself imagine a better match for her than Walter Clifford.
But then he observed that Mr. Bartley himself offered no personal
objection, but wished the matter to be in abeyance until she was older,
and Colonel Clifford's objection to the connection should be removed or
softened.
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