She had seen enough of that in her first marriage, and in her degradation and misery had sworn a bitter oath to herself never again to marry, unless marriage should sweep her into the broad river of luxury and content.

Had Maurice's financial affairs been all they ought to have been but for his mother's extravagances, she undoubtedly would have chosen him before all the world; but Maurice's fortunes were (and are) at a low ebb, and she would risk nothing.

His uncle _might_ die, and then Maurice, who was his heir, would be a rich man; but his uncle was only sixty-five, and he might marry again, and---- No, she would refuse! Rylton had pressed his suit many times, but she had never yielded.
It was always the same argument, she would not ruin _him_.

But one day--only the other day, indeed--she had said something that made him know she sometimes counted on his uncle's death.

She would marry him then! She would not marry a poor man, however much she loved him.