upon his enemies; but it was his
pride to be the builder of his own fortune.

"If you were not an old man," he said tempestuously, "you would not
make such an offer with impunity. You will find I have no price. I
wish you good day."

"Wait!" the bishop cried, raising his trembling hand and clearing his
throat from suffocating emotion. "Only one word more. You shall not
have her--that is all. And this house is mine--you shall not enter it
again."

The other's face became diabolical in its passion. He leaned against
the jamb of the open door and folded his arms mockingly, as if inviting
an effort to eject him.

"You were speaking pretty freely of statutory grounds," he said,
raising his voice. "It has n't occurred to you, perhaps, that I may
name a co-respondent myself. You ought to have a care, bishop, what
kind of professors you employ in your college." With these words he
turned and strode from the house.

The bishop's speechless indignation presently gave way to the first
touch of pity he had yet felt for Felicity in her trouble. The mayor
was more of a brute than even he had thought possible, and should
receive no quarter in the future. The front door had scarcely closed
when his daughter's figure took the place her husband had just occupied
before him.

"Well?" she asked simply.

He searched her face with haggard eyes, and guessed from its pallor
that his fears were justified.

"Did you hear what the fellow said," he demanded--"his last words?"

The colour came back to her cheeks with a rush. "I could n't very well
help it. I was in the dining-room, and the door was open."

"I 'm sorry," he murmured, "very sorry. I hoped you did not. But
there, we 'll not discuss the subject any more at present, Felicity.
The interview was fruitless, worse than fruitless, I fear." He shifted
uneasily in his chair, and she understood his dumb appeal to be left
alone.

When she had gone, he arose from his seat and unlocked a long drawer
beneath one of his bookcases, from which he took a mass of material
relating to the plans for St. George's Hall. These he spread out on
the desk before him and studied with deep attention, turning again to
this dream with an instinct of self-preservation. To-morrow he would
take up again the fight for his daughter's freedom and happiness, but
now he was in sore need of some narcotic influence, of something
beautiful and permanent, as a refuge from the passions that had