ft. With this, and with a last outburst of tender protestation,
crammed crookedly into a corner of the page, the letter ended.
(N.B.--The major's object in taking her to the seaside is plain enough.
He still privately distrusts Armadale, and he is wisely determined to
prevent any more clandestine meetings in the park before the girl is
safely disposed of at school.)

"When I had done with the letter--I had requested permission to read
parts of it which I particularly admired, for the second and third
time!--we all consulted together in a friendly way about what Armadale
was to do.

"He was fool enough, at the outset, to protest against submitting to
Major Milroy's conditions. He declared, with his odious red face looking
the picture of brute health, that he should never survive a six
months' separation from his beloved Neelie. Midwinter (as may easily be
imagined) seemed a little ashamed of him, and joined me in bringing
him to his senses. We showed him, what would have been plain enough
to anybody but a booby, that there was no honorable or even decent
alternative left but to follow the example of submission set by the
young lady. 'Wait, and you will have her for your wife,' was what I
said. 'Wait, and you will force the major to alter his unjust opinion of
you,' was what Midwinter added. With two clever people hammering common
sense into his head at that rate, it is needless to say that his head
gave way, and he submitted.

"Having decided him to accept the major's conditions (I was careful
to warn him, before he wrote to Miss Milroy, that my engagement to
Midwinter was to be kept as strictly secret from her as from everybody
else), the next question we had to settle related to his future
proceedings. I was ready with the necessary arguments to stop him, if he
had proposed returning to Thorpe Ambrose. But he proposed nothing of
the sort. On the contrary, he declared, of his own accord, that nothing
would induce him to go back. The place and the people were associated
with everything that was hateful to him. There would be no Miss Milroy
now to meet him in the park, and no Midwinter to keep him company in the
solitary house. 'I'd rather break stones on the road,' was the sensible
and cheerful way in which he put it, 'than go back to Thorpe Ambrose.'

"The first suggestion after this came from Midwinter. The sly old
clergyman who gave Mrs. Oldershaw and me so much trouble has, it
seems, been ill, but has been latter