"It is not what I think, in the absence of proof, but what you think, Flora. What I want you to do is this--to consider the matter fairly.

Compare him with--I'll not say with Norman--but with Richard, Alan, Mr.

Wilmot. Do you think you could rely on him--come to him for advice?"

(Flora never did come to any one for advice.) "Above all--do you think him likely to be a help, or a hindrance, in doing right?"

"I think you underrate him," said Flora steadily; "but, of course, if you dislike it--though, I think, you would change your mind if you knew him better--"

"Well," he said, as if to himself, "it is not always the most worthy;"

then continued, "I have no dislike to him. Perhaps I may find that you are right. Since your mind is made up, I will do this: first, we must be assured of his father's consent, for they may very fairly object, since what I can give you is a mere nothing to them. Next, I shall find out what character he bears in his regiment, and watch him well myself; and, if nothing appear seriously amiss, I will not withhold my consent. But, Flora, you should still consider whether he shows such principle and right feeling as you can trust to."

"Thank you, papa. I know you will do all that is kind."

"Mind, you must not consider it an engagement, unless all be satisfactory."

"I will do as you please."

Ethel perceived that something was in agitation, but the fact did not break upon her till she came to Margaret, after the schoolroom reading, and heard Dr. May declaiming away in the vehement manner that always relieved him.

"Such a cub!" These were the words that met her ear; and she would have gone away, but he called her. "Come in, Ethel; Margaret says you guessed at this affair!"

"At what affair!" exclaimed Ethel. "Oh, it is about Flora. Poor man; has he done it?"

"Poor! He is not the one to be pitied!" said her father.

"You don't mean that she likes him?"

"She does though! A fellow with no more brains than a turnip lantern!"

"She does not mean it?" said Ethel.

"Yes, she does! Very submissive, and proper spoken, of course, but bent on having him; so there is nothing left for me but to consent--provided Mr. Rivers does, and he should turn out not to have done anything outrageous; but there's no hope of that--he has not the energy. What can possess her? What can she see to admire?"

"He is good-natured," said Margaret, "and rather good-looking--"

"Flora has more sense. What on earth can be the attraction?"

"I am afraid it is partly the grandeur--" said Ethel. She broke off short, quite dismayed at the emotion she had excited. Dr. May stepped towards her, almost as if he could have shaken her.

"Ethel," he cried, "I won't have such motives ascribed to your sister!"

Ethel tried to recollect what she had said that was so shocking, for the idea of Flora's worldly motives was no novelty to her. They had appeared in too many instances; and, though frightened at his anger, she stood still, without unsaying her words.

Margaret began to explain away. "Ethel did not mean, dear papa--"

"No," said Dr. May, his passionate manner giving way to dejection. "The truth is, that I have made home so dreary, that my girls are ready to take the first means of escaping."

Poor Margaret's tears sprang forth, and, looking up imploringly, she exclaimed, "Oh, papa, papa! it was no want of happiness! I could not help it. You know he had come before--"

Any reproach to her had been entirely remote from his thoughts, and he was at once on his knee beside her, soothing and caressing, begging her pardon, and recalling whatever she could thus have interpreted.

Meanwhile, Ethel stood unnoticed and silent, making no outward protestation, but with lips compressed, as in her heart of hearts she passed the resolution--that her father should never feel this pain on her account. Leave him who might, she would never forsake him; nothing but the will of Heaven should part them. It might be hasty and venturesome. She knew not what it might cost her; but, where Ethel had treasured her resolve to work for Cocksmoor, there she also laid up her secret vow--that no earthly object should be placed between her and her father.

The ebullition of feeling seemed to have restored Dr. May's calmness, and he rose, saying, "I must go to my work; the man is coming here this afternoon."

"Where shall you see him?" Margaret asked.

"In my study, I suppose. I fear there is no chance of Flora's changing her mind first. Or do you think one of you could talk to her, and get her fairly to contemplate the real bearings of the matter?" And, with these words, he left the room.

Margaret and Ethel glanced at each other; and both felt the impenetrability of Flora's nature, so smooth, that all thrusts glided off.

"It will be of no use," said Ethel; "and, what is more, she will not have it done."

"Pray try; a few of your forcible words would set it in a new light."

"Why! Do you think she will attend to me, when she has not chosen to heed papa?" said Ethel, with an emphasis of incredulity. "No; whatever Flora does, is done deliberately, and unalterably."

"Still, I don't know whether it is not our duty," said Margaret.

"More yours than mine," said Ethel.

Margaret flushed up. "Oh, no, I cannot!" she said, always timid, and slightly defective in moral courage. She looked so nervous and shaken by the bare idea of a remonstrance with Flora, that Ethel could not press her; and, though convinced that her representation would be useless, she owned that her conscience would rest better after she had spoken. "But there is Flora, walking in the garden with Norman," she said. "No doubt he is doing it."

So Ethel let it rest, and attended to the children's lessons, during which Flora came into the drawing-room, and practised her music, as if nothing had happened.

Before the morning was over, Ethel contrived to visit Norman in the dining-room, where he was wont to study, and asked him whether he had made any impression on Flora.

"What impression do you mean?"

"Why, about this concern," said Ethel; "this terrible man, that makes papa so unhappy."

"Papa unhappy! Why, what does he know against him? I thought the Riverses were his peculiar pets."

"The Riverses! As if, because one liked the sparkling stream, one must like a muddy ditch."

"What harm do you know of him?" said Norman, with much surprise and anxiety, as if he feared that he had been doing wrong, in ignorance.

"Harm! Is he not a regular oaf?"

"My dear Ethel, if you wait to marry till you find some one as clever as yourself, you will wait long enough."

"I don't think it right for a woman to marry a man decidedly her inferior."

"We have all learned to think much too highly of talent," said Norman gravely.

"I don't care for mere talent--people are generally more sensible without it; but, one way or other, there ought to be superiority on the man's side."

"Well, who says there is not?"

"My dear Norman! Why, this George Rivers is really below the average!

you cannot deny that! Did you ever meet any one so stupid?"