occurred to disturb her tranquillity. Kate
remarked that she had heard that morning from Aunt Greenow, and
promised to show Alice the letter after breakfast. But Alice said no
word of her own letter.

"Why didn't your aunt come here to eat her Christmas dinner?" said
the Squire.

"Perhaps, sir, because you didn't ask her," said Kate, standing close
to her grandfather,--for the old man was somewhat deaf.

"And why didn't you ask her;--that is, if she stands upon asking to
come to her old home?"

"Nay, sir, but I couldn't do that without your bidding. We Vavasors
are not always fond of meeting each other."

"Hold your tongue, Kate. I know what you mean, and you should be the
last to speak of it. Alice, my dear, come and sit next to me. I am
much obliged to you for coming down all this way to see your old
grandfather at Christmas. I am indeed. I only wish you had brought
better news about your sweetheart."

"She'll think better of it before long, sir," said her father.

"Papa, you shouldn't say that. You would not wish me to marry against
my own judgement."

"I don't know much about ladies' judgements," said the old man. "It
does seem to me that when a lady makes a promise she ought to keep
it."

"According to that," said Kate, "if I were engaged to a man, and
found that he was a murderer, I still ought to marry him."

"But Mr Grey is not a murderer," said the Squire.

"Pray,--pray, don't talk about it," said Alice. "If you do I really
cannot sit and hear it."

"I have given over saying anything on the subject," said John
Vavasor, speaking as though he had already expended upon it a vast
amount of paternal eloquence. He had, however, never said more than
has been recorded in these pages. Alice during this conversation, sat
with her cousin's letter in her pocket, and as yet had not even begun
to think what should be the nature of her reply.

The Squire of Vavasor Hall was a stout old man, with a red face and
grey eyes, which looked fiercely at you, and with long grey hair, and
a rough grey beard, which gave him something of the appearance of an
old lion. He was passionate, unreasoning, and specially impatient
of all opposition; but he was affectionate, prone to forgive when
asked to do so, unselfish, and hospitable. He was, moreover, guided
strictly by rules, which he believed to be rules of right. His
grandson George had offended him very deeply,--had offended him and
never asked his pardon. He was determ