old my tongue, which was what I intended fully,
and there was nothing further from my thoughts than to have troubled you
again. But, my dear, it has become merely necessary, and no way by it.
You see, this estate of mine has fallen in, which makes of me rather a
better match; and the--the business would not have quite the same
ridiculous-like appearance that it would before. Besides which, it's
supposed that our affairs have got so much ravelled up (as I was saying)
that it would be better to let them be the way they are. In my view,
this part of the thing is vastly exaggerate, and if I were you I would
not ware two thoughts on it. Only it's right I should mention the same,
because there's no doubt it has some influence on James More. Then I
think we were none so unhappy when we dwelt together in this town
before. I think we did pretty well together. If you would look back, my
dear----"

"I will look neither back nor forward," she interrupted. "Tell me the
one thing: this is my father's doing?"

"He approves of it," said I. "He approved that I should ask your hand in
marriage," and was going on again with somewhat more of an appeal upon
her feelings; but she marked me not, and struck into the midst.

"He told you to!" she cried. "It is no sense denying it, you said
yourself that there was nothing further from your thoughts. He told you
to."

"He spoke of it the first, if that is what you mean," I began.

She was walking ever the faster, and looking fair in front of her; but
at this she made a little noise in her head, and I thought she would
have run.

"Without which," I went on, "after what you said last Friday, I would
never have been so troublesome as make the offer. But when he as good as
asked me, what was I to do?"

She stopped and turned round upon me.

"Well, it is refused, at all events," she cried, "and there will be an
end of that."

And she began again to walk forward.

"I suppose I could expect no better," said I, "but I think you might try
to be a little kind to me for the last end of it. I see not why you
should be harsh. I have loved you very well, Catriona--no harm that I
should call you so for the last time. I have done the best that I could
manage, I am trying the same still, and only vexed that I can do no
better. It is a strange thing to me that you can take any pleasure to be
hard to me."

"I am not thinking of you," she said, "I am thinking of that man, my
father."

"Well, and tha