such terrible words till all is done. Mother, I implore you to keep
him here. Hide him--do what you can to conceal him. I will have one more
trial." She snatched up her bonnet, and was gone, before they had time to
think or speak to arrest her.

On she flew along the Combehurst road. As she went, the tears fell like
rain down her face, and she talked to herself.

"He should not have said so. No! he should not have said so. We were the
only two." But still she pressed on, over the thick, wet, brown heather.
She saw Mr. Buxton coming; and she went still quicker. The rain had cleared
off, and a yellow watery gleam of sunshine was struggling out. She stopped
or he would have passed her unheeded; little expecting to meet her there.

"I wanted to see you," said she, all at once resuming her composure, and
almost assuming a dignified manner. "You must not go down to our house; we
have sorrow enough there. Come under these fir-trees, and let me speak to
you."

"I hope you have thought of what I said, and are willing to do what I asked
you."

"No!" said she. "I have thought and thought. I did not think in a selfish
spirit, though they say I did. I prayed first. I could not do that
earnestly, and be selfish, I think. I cannot give up Frank. I know the
disgrace; and if he, knowing all, thinks fit to give me up, I shall never
say a word, but bow my head, and try and live out my appointed days quietly
and cheerfully. But he is the judge, not you; nor have I any right to do
what you ask me." She stopped, because the agitation took away her breath.

He began in a cold manner:--"I am very sorry. The law must take its course.
I would have saved my son from the pain of all this knowledge, and that
which he will of course feel in the necessity of giving up his engagement.
I would have refused to appear against your brother, shamefully ungrateful
as he has been. Now you cannot wonder that I act according to my agent's
advice, and prosecute your brother as if he were a stranger."

He turned to go away. He was so cold and determined that for a moment
Maggie was timid. But she then laid her hand on his arm.

"Mr. Buxton," said she, "you will not do what you threaten. I know you
better. Think! My father was your old friend. That claim is, perhaps, done
away with by Edward's conduct. But I do not believe you can forget it
always. If you did fulfill the menace you uttered just now, there would
come times as you grew older, and life grew