The Duke's Children

a Gen

might probably be serviceable, and would certainly be gracious. There would be no question of entertainment. His bereavement would make that impossible. But there would come from his presence a certain savour of proprietorship, and a sense of power, which would be beneficial to his son, and would not, as the Duke thought, be contrary to the spirit of the constitution. But all this was now at an end. He told himself that he did not car

ffairs of his son insignificant. How should he express himself to her? That was the thought present to his mind as he went down to Matching. Should he content himself with simply telling her that such a wish on her part was disgraceful, and th

hat he had never succeeded in establishing confidence between himself and his daughter. It was a thing for which he had longed,-as a plain girl might

understand that nothing should be spared by him to add beauty and grace to her life! Only, as a matter of course, Mr. Tregear must be abandoned.

entertain an idea that Mrs. Finn had been the great promoter of the sin, and he thought that Tregear had told him that that lady had been concerned with the matter fr

d and bade her come to him after his dinner. "Shall I not sit with you, papa, whilst you are eating it?" she asked; but he merely told her that he would

irst bit of meat that was brought, and simply ignoring anything offered to him afterwards. And he would drink what wine the servant gave him, mixing it, whatever it might be, with seltzer water. He had never been

found him seated on a sofa, which stood close along the bookshelves on one side of the room. The table had alre

red to her, her legs almost gave way under her. "Come and sit down

. Then, as he did not begin at once, she asked a ques

my

or the

my d

on't be a

not know that I should be justified in any absolute opposition. A man

t should be so, papa,

to vex me;-things

ma!" she

nds, and even though we may complain we can alter nothing. But

Member of Parliament, though

ing about you." The poor girl gave a little start

I know him. You used

tand that he was there as

ntimate fri

n London yesterday, and told

ry affairs of life she was a girl of great courage, who was not given to be shaken from her constancy by the

u have engaged yourself to that

were to have be

dea of what should be the conduct

conceal anythin

atter of course that I should accede to so trivial a request. It is, as a matter of course, quite impossible. You understand that; do you

such a whisper that he could hear the word, and with so much clearn

that it is quite impossible. I will not have

, pa

ished that you s

m, papa, to go to you unless

ur love. It is disgracefu

grac

udently in his way. There has, I believe, been someone at work in the matter with whom I ought to be more angry than with you. Say that you will obey me, and there is nothing within a father's power that I will not do for you, to make your life happy." It was thus that he strove not to be ster

er lover. Young as she was, she had her own peculiar theory on that matter, her own code of conduct and honour, from which she did not mean to be driven. Of course she had not expected that her father would yield at the first word. He, no doubt, would wish that she should make a more exalted marriage. She had known that she would have t

Mary, that you will

that I can sa

y n

of all the people in the w

etter than all the world beside, and that she should be taken away to become a wife and a mother. And the father, when that delight of his eyes ceases to assure him that he is her nearest and dearest, though he abandon the treasure of that nearestness and dearestness with a soft melancholy, still knows that it is as it should be. Of course that other "him" is the person she loves the best in the world. Were it not so

I to sa

you will

you not know that he is n

, p

hought much either of y

gentlem

be a gentleman. The curate of the parish is a gentleman, and the medical man who comes here from Bradstock. The

d she, showing thereby that she had altogether made u

om your obedience is due. I cannot but think you must have known that you were not entitled to give your love to any man without being assured

d was too noble to

t a reproach upon him, when he was so stern t

fault, and I will mend it. It is a reason for forgiveness, and I will

, p

do you

him so, and as I have promised him, I will be

hat you will be allow

ope

y not. Do you

, p

ev

e have been ba

se me that you

s looking him full in the face. "I shall not write to him.

se me,-you

ght be that-that

ou that you should have no power of

d not li

ill have

rite I wil

me what

but I will tell you

to find how difficult it would be for him to have the charge of such a daughter,-how impossible that he should conduct such a charge with sufficient firmness, and yet with sufficient tenderness! At present he had done no good. He had on

ng, no communication of any kind. As you refuse