"No, my dear."

"But for the town?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And he won't be a Liberal?"

"I am afraid not. It is a cause of great unhappiness to me; but I do
not know that I should be justified in any absolute opposition. A man
is entitled to his own opinion, even though he be a very young man."

"I am so sorry that it should be so, papa, because it vexes you."

"I have many things to vex me;--things to break my heart."

"Poor mamma!" she exclaimed.

"Yes; that above all others. But life and death are in God's hands,
and even though we may complain we can alter nothing. But whatever
our sorrows are while we are here, we must do our duty."

"I suppose he may be a good Member of Parliament, though he has
turned Conservative."

"I am not thinking about your brother. I am thinking about you."
The poor girl gave a little start on the sofa. "Do you know--Mr.
Tregear?" he added.

"Yes, papa; of course I know him. You used to see him in Italy."

"I believe I did; I understand that he was there as a friend of
Silverbridge."

"His most intimate friend, papa."

"I dare say. He came to me, in London yesterday, and told me--! Oh
Mary, can it be true?"

"Yes, papa," she said, covered up to her forehead with blushes, and
with her eyes turned down. In the ordinary affairs of life she was
a girl of great courage, who was not given to be shaken from her
constancy by the pressure of any present difficulty; but now the
terror inspired by her father's voice almost overpowered her.

"Do you mean to tell me that you have engaged yourself to that young
man without my approval?"

"Of course you were to have been asked, papa."

"Is that in accordance with your idea of what should be the conduct
of a young lady in your position?"

"Nobody meant to conceal anything from you, papa."

"It has been so far concealed. And yet this young man has the
self-confidence to come to me and to demand your hand as though it
were a matter 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 not?" When she did not answer him at once, he repeated the
question. "I ask you whether you do not feel that it is altogether
impossible?"

"No, papa," she said, in the lowest possible whisper, but still
in such a whisper that he could hear the word, and with so much
clearness that he could judge from her voice of the obstinacy of her
mind.

"Then, Mary, it becomes my duty