Charles related to Mr. Scofield what had transpired between himself
and Ida, he saw that his uncle was deeply disappointed and dissatisfied.

"Boy!" he said, in more of a passion than Charles had ever seen him, "Boy,
you've made a fool of the matter and of yourself, too!"

"Why, uncle!" replied Charles, in utter astonishment.

"Yes, you have!" continued the old gentleman, "and I am provoked at you. I
have always intended to make you my heir, but I shall not do it now, at
least, not until you consent to wed Ida."

"Ida does not wish to marry me."

"She'll not object, I know she will not. I have set my heart upon the
match, and you must marry her, Charles."

"I am deeply pained to say so, but I cannot."

"You _must_!"

"Nay, then, I _will not!_"

"Boy! do you wish to drive me to disinherit and disown you?"

"Disinherit me if you will, but I beg you will not disown me. I have a
conscience in this matter; if it was only a whim, I would yield to your
wishes."

"And you utterly refuse to accede to my desires?"

"I do."

"Well, I am sorry for you, but I am resolved, seeing you care so little for
me, to substitute Ida's name for yours in my will."

Charles could bear to be treated harshly, but to be accused of want of
affection and gratitude toward the benefactor to whom he owed so much,
called tears to his eyes.

"You know, uncle, that I love you as I would a father, and it is unjust of
you to charge me with a want of affection."

Mr. Scofield was moved by the evident distress his words had caused in his
nephew's mind, and relenting a very little, he said:

"I will try you, then; instead of cutting you off at once, I give you a
week to consider the matter over; if, in that time, you find you love me
well enough to accede to my wishes, well and good; if not, I will surely do
as I have said."

Saying this, he abruptly closed the interview, and left Charles in a state
of the deepest distress and sorrow. His mother tried to persuade him to
yield to his uncle's good pleasure; and, finally, Ida and her mother joined
in entreating him not to break all their hearts by suffering himself to be
driven from home. He had most difficulty to overcome Ida's pleadings, for
she told him no fate could be so bad as for him to be sent away, to wander
in the world, and die, perhaps, among strangers, with no kind mother,
sister or friend to minister to his wants or smooth his dying pillow.

"Spare me, Ida!" he said with emotio