a visitor
beneath my roof, and a solicitor for the hand of my daughter, outraged
all feelings of honour and decency, by seducing this poor girl, on our
own estate, at our very doors. It was mean, wicked, dastardly--and
without he marries his unhappy victim, he shall never enter my doors
again."

"_Marry!_" and Mr. Moncton hissed the words through his clenched teeth.
"Let him dare to marry her, and the sole inheritance he gets from me,
will be his father's curse!"

"Till he does this, and by so doing wipes off the infamous stain he has
brought upon our house, I must consider both father and son as
strangers!"

"Please yourself, Sir Alexander. You will never by menace induce me to
give my consent to this disgraceful marriage," cried Moncton, stamping
with rage.

There was another long pause. I heard Sir Alexander traversing the
apartment with hasty strides. At length, stopping suddenly before his
excited companion, he said; "Robert, you may be right. The wicked
woman, who sold her grandchild for money, was once in your service. You
best know what relationship exists between your son and his beautiful
victim."

A hollow laugh burst from Mr. Moncton's lips.

"You possess a lively imagination, Sir Alexander. I did love that
woman, though she was old enough then to have been my mother. It was a
boy's rash, blind love; but I was too proud to make her my wife, and
she was too cunning and avaricious to be mine on any other terms. Your
suspicions, on _that head_ at least, are erroneous."

"Be that as it may," said Sir Alexander, "Theophilus Moncton shall
never darken my doors until the grave closes over me."

He left the room while speaking. A few minutes later, a carriage dashed
from the door at a rapid rate, and I felt certain that he had quitted
the house. My uncle's step approached. I let my head drop upon the
table and feigned sleep, and without attempting to waken me, he
withdrew.

From that night a marked alteration took place in his manner towards
me. It was evident that the commendations bestowed upon me by Sir
Alexander had ruined me in his eyes, and he considered me in the light
of a formidable rival. He withdrew his confidence, and treated me with
the most pointed neglect. But he could not well banish me from his
table, or deprive me of the standing he had given me among his guests,
without insulting them, by having introduced to their notice a person
unworthy of it. On this head I was tolerably secure, a