uch is the world, and such will ever be the case
with such imperfect beings as we are. How vain to expect anything like
consistency, much less perfection, in our erring natures! Hurt but the
self-love of a man, wound his vanity, and all obligations are
forgotten."

I turned away from the bag of money, which I was resolved not to accept,
although I had not at the time twenty guineas at my own disposal. It
was now within half an hour of dark; I collected all my books, put some
in the iron safe, others as usual in my desk, and having arranged
everything as completely as I could, I locked the safe, and enclosed the
keys in a parcel, which I sealed. Putting Mr Trevannion's name on the
outside, I laid the parcel on the table in the room where we had had our
conference, by the side of the bag of money.

It was now dark, or nearly so, and leaving the confidential porter, as
usual, to shut up the house, I went up to the sitting-room with the
expectation of seeing Miss Trevannion, and bidding her farewell. I was
not disappointed; I found her at her netting, having just lighted the
lamp which hung over the table.

"Miss Trevannion," said I, advancing respectfully towards her, "I have
fulfilled my promise, and I have received my reward,"--she looked up at
me--"which is, I am dismissed from this house and your presence for
ever."

"I trust," said she, after a pause, "that you have not exceeded my
wishes. It appears to me so strange, that I must think that such is the
case. My father never could have dismissed you in this way for merely
expressing an opinion, Mr Elrington. You must have gone too far."

"Miss Trevannion, when you meet your father, you can then ascertain
whether I have been guilty of intemperance or rudeness, or a proper want
of respect in making the communication,--which I did in exactly the
manner you yourself proposed, and my reward has been such as I state."

"You have a better reward, Mr Elrington, if what you assert is really
correct; you have the reward of having done your duty; but I cannot
imagine that your dismissal has arisen from the mere expression of an
opinion. You'll excuse me, Mr Elrington, that, as a daughter, I
cannot, in justice to a much-respected father, believe that such is the
case."

This was said in so cold a manner, that I was nettled to the highest
degree. Miss Trevannion had promised me her gratitude, instead of which
I felt that she was doubting my word, and, as it were,