an't work, and will be
hanging upon you every day, keeping you from working--that you will
never be able to make anything of."

"Mr. Copperhead," said Phoebe sweetly, "why do you tell all this to me?
Your mere good sense will show you that I cannot budge. I have accepted
him being rich, and I cannot throw him over when he is poor. I may not
like it--I don't like it--but I am helpless. Whatever change is made, it
cannot be made by me."

He stared at her in blank wonder and dismay. For a moment he could not
say anything. "Look here," he faltered at last, "you thought him a great
match, a rise in the world for you and yours; but he ain't a great match
any longer. What's the use then of keeping up the farce? You and me
understand each other. You've nothing to do but to let him off; you're
young and pretty, you'll easily find some one else. Fools are plenty in
this world," he added, unable to refrain from that one fling. "Let him
off and all will be right. What's to prevent you? I'd not lose a moment
if I were you."

Phoebe laughed. She had a pretty laugh, soft yet ringing like a child's.
"You and I, I fear, are no rule for each other," she said. "Mr.
Copperhead, what prevents me is a small thing called honour, that is
all."

"Honour! that's for men," he said hastily, "and folly for them according
as you mean it; but for women there's no such thing, it's sham and
humbug; and look you here, Miss Phoebe," he continued, losing his temper,
"you see what your father will say to this when you get him into hot
water with his people! There's more men with sons than me; and if the
Crescent ain't too hot to hold him within a month--Do you think I'll
stand it, a beggarly minister and his belongings coming in the way of a
man that could buy you all up, twenty times over, and more!"

The fury into which he had worked himself took away Mr. Copperhead's
breath. Phoebe said nothing. She went on by his side with soft steps, her
face a little downcast, the suspicion of a smile about her mouth.

"By George!" he cried, when he had recovered himself, "you think you can
laugh at me. You think you can defy me, you, a bit of a girl, as poor as
Job!"

"I defy no one," said Phoebe. "I cannot prevent you from insulting me,
that is all; which is rather hard," she added, with a smile, which cost
her an effort, "seeing that I shall have to drag your son through the
world somehow, now that you have cast him off. He will not give me up, I
know, an