hardly have thought it
manly in me if I had abstained. Dear friend, take a day or two
before you answer this, and do not banish us from your heart if
you can help it.

Your affectionate friend,

PAUL MONTAGUE.

Roger Carbury did not take a single day,--or a single hour to answer
the letter. He received it at breakfast, and after rushing out on the
terrace and walking there for a few minutes, he hurried to his desk
and wrote his reply. As he did so, his whole face was red with wrath,
and his eyes were glowing with indignation.

There is an old French saying that he who makes excuses is his
own accuser. You would not have written as you have done, had
you not felt yourself to be false and ungrateful. You knew where
my heart was, and there you went and undermined my treasure, and
stole it away. You have destroyed my life, and I will never
forgive you.

You tell me not to banish you both from my heart. How dare you
join yourself with her in speaking of my feelings! She will
never be banished from my heart. She will be there morning,
noon, and night, and as is and will be my love to her, so shall
be my enmity to you.

ROGER CARBURY.

It was hardly a letter for a Christian to write; and, yet, in those
parts Roger Carbury had the reputation of being a good Christian.

Henrietta told her mother that morning, immediately on her return.
'Mamma, Mr Paul Montague has been here.'

'He always comes here when I am away,' said Lady Carbury.

'That has been an accident. He could not have known that you were
going to Messrs. Leadham and Loiter's.'

'I'm not so sure of that, Hetta.'

'Then, mamma, you must have told him yourself, and I don't think you
knew till just before you were going. But, mamma, what does it matter?
He has been here, and I have told him--'

'You have not accepted him?'

'Yes, mamma.'

'Without even asking me?'

'Mamma, you knew. I will not marry him without asking you. How was I
not to tell him when he asked me whether I--loved him--'

'Marry him! How is it possible you should marry him? Whatever he had
got was in that affair of Melmotte's, and that has gone to the dogs.
He is a ruined man, and for aught I know may be compromised in all
Melmotte's wickedness.'

'Oh, mamma, do not say that!'

'But I do say it. It is hard upon me. I did think that you would try
to comfort me after all this trouble with Felix. But you are as bad as
he