We could not have been happy in
disobeying my father.'

'Ah! but you could have done penance. I had many penances to do for
quitting my convent; Padre Inigo was very severe, but they are over at
last, and I am free for giving alms twice a week, and the Sisters have
forgiven me, and send me so many silver flowers and dulces; I will show
them to you some day. Could you not have done penance?'

'I am afraid not.'

'Ah! I forgot you were a heretic, poor thing! How inconvenient! And
so you will not come with me to the bull-fight next Sunday?'

Such being Rosita's ideas on the point, Mary gave up much hope in her
influence, and tried what a good-humoured announcement of her
re-establishment of the English breakfast would effect towards bringing
her father to a tete-a-tete, but he never came near it. The waiting in
silence was miserable enough for herself, but she would have continued
to bear it except for the injustice to Louis, who must not be kept in
suspense. The departure of the next English mail should be the limit
of her endurance, and after a day of watching, she finally went up to
her father when he would have bidden her good night, and said, in
English, 'Papa, if you please, I must speak to you.'

'So you shall, my dear, but we are all tired; we must have our night's
rest.'

'No, papa, it must be to-night, if you please. It is necessary for me
to know before to-morrow how I am to write to Lord Fitzjocelyn.'

'Pshaw! Mary, I've settled that young fellow!'

'Papa, I don't think you know--'

'I've written him a civil answer, if that's what you mean, much
civiller than he or his father deserve,' he said, speaking loud, and
trying to fling away from her, but she stood her ground, and spoke
calmly and steadily, though her heart beat violently.

'You do not understand the true state of the case, papa; and without
doing so, you cannot write such an answer as they deserve.'

'I know this, that old Ormersfield has been the curse of my life!' and
out poured one of those torrents of fierce passion which had been
slowly but surely the death of his wife. Mary had never heard one in
the full tide before, but she stood firm; there were none of the tears,
auch as, in her mother, had been wont to exasperate him further, but
with pale cheeks, compressed lips, and hands locked together, her heart
was one silent entreaty that it might be forgiven him above. Thus she
stood while the storm of anger raged, and when a