deared to her by long and wondering contemplation. Besides, he
was her father; he gave her the life she was about to cast away. And she
should never see him more. Not on that account did she hesitate in her
purpose, which was now set in her mind, like Bryngelly Castle on its
rock, but at the thought tears rushed unbidden to her eyes.

Just then breakfast came to an end, and Elizabeth hurried from the room
to fetch her bonnet.

"Father," said Beatrice, "if you can before you go, I should like
to hear you say that you do not believe that I told you what was
false--about that story."

"Eh, eh!" answered the old man nervously, "I thought that we had agreed
to say nothing about the matter at present."

"Yes, but I should like to hear you say it, father. It cuts me that
you should think that I would lie to you, for in my life I have never
wilfully told you what was not true;" and she clasped her hands about
his arms, and looked into his face.

He gazed at her doubtfully. Was it possible after all she was speaking
the truth? No; it was not possible.

"I can't, Beatrice," he said--"not that I blame you overmuch for trying
to defend yourself; a cornered rat will show fight."

"May you never regret those words," she said; "and now good-bye," and
she kissed him on the forehead.

At this moment Elizabeth entered, saying that it was time to start, and
he did not return the kiss.

"Good-bye, Elizabeth," said Beatrice, stretching out her hand. But
Elizabeth affected not to see it, and in another moment they were gone.
She followed them to the gate and watched them till they vanished down
the road. Then she returned, her heart strained almost to bursting. But
she wept no tear.

Thus did Beatrice bid a last farewell to her father and her sister.

"Elizabeth," said Mr. Granger, as they drew near to the station, "I am
not easy in my thoughts about Beatrice. There was such a strange look in
her eyes; it--in short, it frightens me. I have half a mind to give up
Hereford, and go back," and he stopped upon the road, hesitating.

"As you like," said Elizabeth with a sneer, "but I should think that
Beatrice is big enough and bad enough to look after herself."

"Before the God who made us," said the old man furiously, and striking
the ground with his stick, "she may be bad, but she is not so bad as you
who betrayed her. If Beatrice is a Magdalene, you are a woman Judas; and
I believe that you hate her, and would be glad to see her