Destiny

Victor started, but had no shadow of suspicion that the young girl
before him was the bride elect. His master had once been foolish
enough to think of her as such he believed, but that time was
passed. Richard had grown more sensible, and Edith was the future
wife of Arthur St. Claire. Nina would not live long, and after she
was dead there would be no further hindrance to a match every way
so suitable.

This was Victor's theory, and never doubting that the
same idea had a lodgment in the minds of both Arthur and Edith, he
could not conceive it possible that the latter would deliberately
give herself to Richard. Grace Atherton, on the contrary, would be
glad to do it; she had been coaxing his master these forty years,
and had succeeded in winning him at last. Victor did not fancy
Grace; and when at last he spoke, it was to call both his master
and Mrs. Atherton a pair of precious fools. Edith looked
wonderingly at him as he raved on.

"I can't bear her, I never could, since I heard how she abused
you. Why, I'd almost rather you'd be his wife than that gay
widow."

"Suppose I marry him then in her stead," Edith said, laughingly.
"I verily believe he'd exchange."

"Of course he would," Victor answered, bitterly. "The older a man
grows, the younger the girl he selects, and it's a wonder he
didn't ask you first."