n
strength to resist temptation, that they easily fall into the snares
laid for them by wicked and designing men. If you persist in receiving
the attentions of this man, who would consider it the utmost
degradation to make you his wife, I, as your brother and natural
protector, will consider it my duty to remove you from this place.'

"'I will not go!' she cried; stopping suddenly and looking me in the
face with an air of defiance. 'You are not your own master yet, much
less mine. I shall remain here with my dear, old grandmother, as long
as she lives. And let me tell you, Mr. Philip, I am as competent to
manage my own affairs as you are!'

"Could this be Alice?

"I looked at her, and looked again. The beauty of her countenance
seemed changed. I turned from her with a deep sigh.

"'Oh, Alice, sister Alice! I tremble for you; so young and so
self-willed. This is not my Alice, the happy, confiding Alice, who once
loved me so tenderly.'

"'I did love you, Philip, very much,' she replied, in a softened voice;
'but how was my love returned? You quarrelled with the only friend we
had in the world. One, too, who had done so much for us. To whose
bounty we were indebted for a home and daily bread; for the clothes we
wore, for the instruction we received--who treated us in every respect
more like his own children, than the poor recipients of his noble
generosity. You forgot all this. You insolently refused to apologize to
his young relative, the heir of his title and wealth, for having
grossly insulted him, and left your home and his protection without
bidding this dear sister, for whose well-doing you are so deeply
concerned, and who shared in your disgrace, one short farewell.'

"'Alice--Alice!'

"'Hush, sir; hear me to the end, if you please. You acted more
ungratefully still, when you sought employment from one of Sir
Alexander's bitterest enemies; and never wrote a single line either to
your injured patron or to us. Was this love? Young as I am, Philip
Mornington, I could not have been guilty of such baseness. I despise
your conduct; and advice comes very ill from a person who could be
guilty of such.'

"She turned haughtily away; and I, Geoffrey, I stood overwhelmed with
confusion and remorse. I had never seen my conduct in this light
before. I had all along imagined myself the injured party, and looked
upon Sir Alexander as an unreasonable persecutor. But I felt at that
moment, as I stood humbled before that pr