was wonderfully polite and cold; Mrs. Dodd
feigned unmixed surprise at the proposal, and
said that insanity being unfortunately in her own
family, and the suspicion of insanity resting on
himself, such a union was not to be thought of;
and therefore, notwithstanding her respect for
his many good qualities, she must decline with
thanks the honour he offered her. She inserted a
poisoned sting by way of postscript. " When
you succeed in publicly removing the impression
your own relations share with me, and when my
husband owes his restoration to you, instead of
his destruction, of course you will receive a very
different answer to your proposal—  should you
then think it consistent with your dignity to
renew it."

As hostile testators used to leave the
disinherited one shilling, not out of a shilling's
worth of kindly feeling, but that he might not be
able to say his name was omitted through
inadvertency, so Mrs. Dodd inserted this
postscript merely to clench the nail and tantalise
her enemy. It was a masterpiece of feminine
spite.

She would have been not a little surprised
could she have seen how Alfred received her
missive.

He sat in a cold stupor of dejection for a good
half hour.

Then he lifted up his head, and said quietly,
"I'll get the trial over, and my sanity established,
as soon as possible: and then I'll hire a yacht
and hunt her husband till 1 find him."

Having settled this little plan he looked out
for Julia, whose sympathy he felt in need of
after such a stern blow.

She came out much later than usual that day,
for, to tell the truth, her mother had detained
her to show her Alfred's letter, and her
answer.

"Ah mamma," said poor Julia, "you don't
love me as you did once. Poor Alfred!"

Mrs. Dodd sighed at this reproach, but said
she did not deserve it. No mother in her senses
would consent to such a match.

Julia bowed her head submissively and went
to her duties. But, when Alfred came to her
open-mouthed to complain of her mother's
cruelty, she stopped him at once, and asked him
how he could go and write that foolish,
unreasonable letter. Why had he not consulted
her first? " You have subjected yourself to a
rebuff," said she angrily, " and one from which
I should have saved you. Is it nothing that
mamma out of pity to me connives at our
meeting, and spending hours together? Do you
think she does no violence to her own wishes
here? and is she to meet with no return?"

"What, are you against me too," said poor
Alfred.

"No, it is you, who are our enemy with your
unreasonable impatience."

"I am not so cold-blooded as you are,
certainly."

"Humility and penitence would become you
better than to retort on me; I love you both,
and pray God on my knees to show me how to do
my duty to both."

"That is it; you are not single-hearted like
me. You want to please all the world, and
reconcile the irreconcilable. It won't do: you
will have to choose between your mother and me
at last."

"Then of course I should choose my mother."

"Why?"

"Because she claims my duty as well as my
love; because she is bowed down with sorrow,
and needs her daughter just now more than you
do; besides, you are my other self, and we must
deny ourselves."

"We have no more right to be unjust to
ourselves than to anybody else: injustice is injustice."

"Alfred, you are a high-minded Heathen, and
talk Morality. Morality is a snare. What I
pray to be is a Christian, as your dear sister was,
and to deny myself; and you make it oh so
difficult."

"So I suppose it will end in turning out your
heathen and then taking your curate. Your
mother would consent to that directly."

"Alfred," said Julia with dignity, "these
words are harsh, and, forgive me for saying so,
they are coarse. Such words would separate us
two, without my mother, if I were to hear many
of them; for they take the bloom off affection,
and that mutual respect, without which no gentleman
and lady could be blessed in holy wedlock."

Alfred was staggered and mortified too: they
walked on in silence now.

"Alfred," said Julia at last, " do not think me
behind you in affection, but wiser, for once, and
our best friend. I do think we had better see
less of one another for a time, my poor Alfred."

"And why for a time? why not for ever?"

"If your heart draws no distinction, why not,
indeed?"

"So be it then: for I will be no woman's
slave. There's my hand, Julia: let us part
friends."

"Thank you for that, dear Alfred: may you
find some one who can love you more— than— I
do."

The words choked her. But he was stronger,
because he was in a passion. He reproached her
bitterly. " If I had been as weak and inconstant
as you are, I might have been out of Drayton
House long before I did escape. But I was faithful
to my one love. I have some right to sing
Aileen Aroon, you have none. You are an angel
of beauty and goodness; you will go to Heaven,
and I shall go to the devil now for want of you.
But then you have no constancy nor true fidelity:
so that has parted us, and now nothing is left me
but to try and hate you."

He turned furiously on his heel.

"God bless you, go where you will," faltered
Julia.

He replied with a fierce ejaculation of despair,
and dashed away.