duct of mine to reconsider this
decision?"

"You are to understand that such is the case, sir."

"And this is final, Mr. Thornton?"

"Quite final, I assure you," said the Vicar; "nothing on earth should
make me flinch from my decision."

"This is very unfortunate, sir," said George. "For I had reason to
believe that you rather encouraged my visits than otherwise."

"I never encouraged them. It is true I permitted them. But since then
circumstances have come to my ears which render it imperative that you
should drop all communication with the members of my family, more
especially, to speak plainly, with my daughter."

"At least, sir," said George, "let me know what charge you bring
against me."

"I make no charges of any sort," replied the Vicar. "All I say is, that
I wish the intercourse between you and my daughter to cease; and I
consider, sir, that when I say that, it ought to be sufficient. I
conceive that I have the right to say so much without question."

"I think you are unjust, sir; I do, indeed," said George.

"I may have been unjust, and I may have been weak, in allowing an
intimacy (which I do not deny, mind you) to spring up between my
daughter and yourself. But I am not unjust now, when I require that it
should cease. I begin to be just."

"Do you forbid me your house, sir?"

"I forbid you my house, sir. Most distinctly. And I wish you good-day."

There was no more to be said on either side. George stood beside his
horse, after the Vicar had left him, till he was fairly out of earshot.
And then, with a fierce oath, he said,--

"You puritanical old humbug, I'll do you yet. You've heard about Nell
and her cursed brat. But the daughter ain't always the same way of
thinking with the father, old man."

The Vicar walked on, glad enough to have got the interview over, till
he overtook the Doctor, who was walking slowly till he came up. He felt
as though the battle was gained already, though he still rather dreaded
a scene with Mary.

"How have you sped, friend?" asked the Doctor. "Have you given the
young gentleman his CONGEE?"

"I have," he replied. "Doctor, now half the work is done, I feel what a
culpable coward I have been not to do it before. I have been deeply to
blame. I never should have allowed him to come near us. Surely, the
girl will not be such a fool as to regret the loss of such a man. I
shall tell her all I know about him, and after that I can do no more.
No more? I never had he