night, and
they report that Professor Dane was there with Peggy. Alice says that
she looked pale and drooping, 'like the Bride of Lammermoor.' There has
been enough of this meddling with my little Peggy, I say, and I'm to
blame for it. I don't know whether her heart is broken or not. I don't
know whether she still cares for that fellow Goward or not. I don't know
what she wants to do--but whatever it is she shall do it, I swear. She
sha'n't be cajoled off to Europe with Charles Edward and Lorraine to be
flung at the head of the first professor who turns up. I'll do my duty
by my little girl. She shall stay at home and be free. There has been
too much interference in this family, and I'm damned if I stand any
more; I'll interfere myself now."

It was not the unusual violence of the language in the last sentence
that convinced me. I had often seen religious men affected in that way
after an over-indulgence in patience and mild behavior. It was that
ominous word, "my duty," which made me sure that Talbert had settled
down on the bed-rock of his conscience and was not to be moved. Why,
then, had he sent for me, I asked, since he had made up his mind?

"Well," said he, "in the first place, I hadn't quite made it up when I
sent the telegram. And in the second place, now that you have helped me
to see absolutely what is right to do, I want you to speak to my wife
about it. She doesn't agree with me, wants Peggy to go to Europe, thinks
there cannot be any risk in it. You know how she has always adored
Charles Edward. Will you talk to her?"

"I will," said I, after a moment of reflection, "on one condition. You
may forbid Peggy's journey, to-morrow morning if you like. Break it
off peremptorily, if you think it's your duty. But don't give up her
state-room on the ship. And if you can be convinced between now and
Saturday that the danger of interference with her young affections is
removed, and that she really needs and wants to go, you let her go! Will
you?"

"I will," said he. And with that we threw away the remainder of our
second cigars, and I went up to the side porch to talk with Mrs.
Talbert. What we said I leave you to imagine. I have always thought her
the truest and tenderest woman in the world, but I never knew till that
night just how clear-headed and brave she was. She agreed with me that
Peggy's affair, up to now more or less foolish, though distressing,
had now reached a dangerous stage, a breaking-point. The