wishes you to forget what he told you, and
what you repeated to me.'

'Did he give you any reason?'

'Yes. I don't understand, though.'

'Come here by me, Jane. Let's talk about it quietly. Sidney doesn't
feel able to help you as he thought he could. We mustn't blame him for
that; he must judge for himself. He thinks it'll be better if you
continue to be only friends.'

Jane averted her face, his steady look being more than she could bear.
For an instant a sense of uttermost shame thrilled through her, and
without knowing what she did, she moved a little and laid the book down.

'Come here, my child,' he repeated, in a gentler voice.

She approached him.

'You feel it hard. But when you've thought about it a little you won't
grieve; I'm sure you won't. Remember, your life is not to be like that
of ordinary women. You've higher objects before you, and you'll find a
higher reward. You know that, don't you? There's no need for me to
remind you of what we've talked about so often, is there? If it's a
sacrifice, you're strong enough to face it; yes, yes, strong enough to
face more than this, my Jane is! Only fix your thoughts on the work
you're going to do. It'll take up all your life, Jane, won't it? You'll
have no time to give to such things as occupy other women--no mind for
them.'

His grey eyes searched her countenance with that horrible intensity of
fanaticism which is so like the look of cruelty, of greed, of any
passion originating in the baser self. Unlike too, of course, but it is
the pitilessness common to both extremes that shows most strongly in an
old, wrinkled visage. He had laid his hand upon her. Every word was a
stab ill the girl's heart, and so dreadful became her torture, so
intolerable the sense of being drawn by a fierce will away from all she
desired, that at length a cry escaped her lips. She fell on her knees
by him, and pleaded in a choking voice.

'I can't! Grandfather, don't ask it of me! Give it all to some one
else--to some one else! I'm not strong enough to make such a sacrifice.
Let me be as I was before!'

Michael's face darkened. He drew his hand away and rose from the seat;
with more than surprise, with anger and even bitterness, he looked down
at the crouching girl. She did not sob; her face buried in her arms,
she lay against the chair, quivering, silent.

'Jane, stand up and speak to me!'

She did not move.

'Jane!'

He laid his hand on her. Jane raised her head, and