ood, in spite of me, and
cling to it, defying me, and that she should do hurt to a sentient human
creature, who was my father, for the sake of blindly obeying to the
letter the injunction of the dead, were intolerable offences to me and
common humanity. I, for my own part, would have forgiven her, as I
congratulated myself upon reflecting. It was on her account--to open her
mind, to enlighten her concerning right and wrong determination, to bring
her feelings to bear upon a crude judgement--that I condescended to argue
the case. Smarting with admiration, both of the depths and shallows of
her character, and of her fine figure, I began:--She was to consider how
young she was to pretend to decide on the balance of duties, how little
of the world she had seen; an oath sworn at the bedside of the dead was a
solemn thing, but was it Christian to keep it to do an unnecessary
cruelty to the living? if she had not studied philosophy, she might at
least discern the difference between just resolves and insane--between
those the soul sanctioned, and those hateful to nature; to bind oneself
to carry on another person's vindictiveness was voluntarily to adopt
slavery; this was flatly-avowed insanity, and so forth, with an emphatic
display of patience.

The truth of my words could not be controverted. Unhappily I confounded
right speaking with right acting, and conceived, because I spoke so
justly, that I was specially approved in pressing her to yield.

She broke the first pause to say, 'It's useless, Harry. I do what I think
I am bound to do.'

'Then I have spoken to no purpose!'

'If you will only be kind, and wait two or three days?'

'Be sensible!'

'I am, as much as I can be.'

'Hard as a flint--you always were! The most grateful woman alive, I
admit. I know not another, I assure you, Janet, who, in return for
millions of money, would do such a piece of wanton cruelty. What! You
think he was not punished enough when he was berated and torn to shreds
in your presence? They would be cruel, perhaps--we will suppose it of
your sex--but not so fond of their consciences as to stamp a life out to
keep an oath. I forget the terms of the Will. Were you enjoined in it to
force him away?'

My father had stationed himself in the background. Mention of the Will
caught his ears, and he commenced shaking my aunt Dorothy's note,
blinking and muttering at a great rate, and pressing his temples.

'I do not read a word of this,' he sai