ht
out, and he rejoiced to me at the immense relief it gave him.
Conscientiously, he could not deny that he knew the squire's objection
to my being in my father's society; and he had connived at it 'for
reasons, my dearest Harry, I can justify to God and man, but not--I
had to confess as much--not, I grieve to say, to your grandfather. I
attempted to do justice to the amiable qualities of the absent. In a
moment I was assailed with epithets that... and not a word is to be
got in when he is so violent. One has to make up one's mind to act
Andromeda, and let him be the sea-monster, as somebody has said; I
forget the exact origin of the remark.'

The squire certainly had a whole ocean at command. I strung myself
to pass through the same performance. To my astonishment I went
unchallenged. Janet vehemently asserted that she had mollified the
angry old man, who, however, was dark of visage, though his tongue
kept silence. He was gruff over his wine-glass the blandishments of
his favourite did not brighten him. From his point of view he had been
treated vilely, and he was apparently inclined to nurse his rancour and
keep my fortunes trembling in the balance. Under these circumstances it
was impossible for me to despatch a letter to Ottilia, though I found
that I could write one now, and I sat in my room writing all day,--most
eloquent stuff it was. The shadow of misfortune restored the sense of my
heroical situation, which my father had extinguished, and this unlocked
the powers of speech. I wrote so admirably that my wretchedness could
enjoy the fine millinery I decorated it in. Then to tear the noble
composition to pieces was a bitter gratification. Ottilia's station
repelled and attracted me mysteriously. I could not separate her from
it, nor keep my love of her from the contentions into which it threw me.
In vain I raved, 'What is rank?' There was a magnet in it that could at
least set me quivering and twisting, behaving like a man spellbound, as
madly as any hero of the ballads under a wizard's charm.

At last the squire relieved us. He fixed that side-cast cock's eye of
his on me, and said, 'Where 's your bankers' book, sir?'

I presumed that it was with my bankers, but did not suggest the
possibility that my father might have it in his custody; for he had a
cheque-book of his own, and regulated our accounts. Why not? I thought,
and flushed somewhat defiantly. The money was mine.

'Any objection to my seeing that bo