erwards between Alice and Henry
Woodward; and after each interview her parents sought her opinion
of him, and desired to know whether she was beginning to think more
favorably of him than she had hitherto done. Still, however, came the
same reply. Every interview only increased her repugnance to the match,
and her antipathy to the man. At length she consented to allow him one
last interview--the last, she asserted, which she would ever afford him
on the subject, and he accordingly presented himself to know her
final determination. Not that from what came out from their former
conversations he had any grounds, as a reasonable man, to expect a
change of opinion on her part; but as the property was his object, he
resolved to leave nothing undone to overcome her prejudice against him
if he could. They were, accordingly, left in the drawing-room to discuss
the matter as best they might, but with a hope on the part of her
parents that, knowing, as she did, how earnestly their hearts were fixed
upon her marriage with him, she might, if only for their sakes, renounce
her foolish antipathy, ard be prevailed upon, by his ardor and his
eloquence, to consent at last.

"Well, Miss Goodwin," said he, when they were left together, "this I
understand, and what is more, I fear, is to be my day of doom. Heaven
grant that it may be a favorable one, for I am badly prepared to see my
hopes blasted, and my affection for you spurned! My happiness, my dear
Miss Goodwin--my happiness for life depends upon the result of this
interview. I know--but I should not say so--for in this instance I must
be guided by hearsay--well, I know from hearsay that your heart is kind
and affectionate. Now I believe this; for who can look upon your face
and doubt it? Believing this, then, how can you, when you know that
the happiness of a man who loves you beyond the power of language to
express, is at stake, depends upon your will--how can you, I say, refuse
to make that individual--who appreciated all your virtues, as I
do--who feels the influence of your extraordinary beauty, as I do--who
contemplates your future happiness as the great object of his life, as I
do--how can you, I say, refuse to make that man happy?"

"Mr. Woodward," she said, "I will not reply to your arguments; I
simply wish to ask you, Are you a gentleman?--in other words, a man of
integrity and principle?"

"Do you doubt me, Miss Goodwin?" he inquired, as if he felt somewhat
hurt.

"It i