e suspected the sincerity of such a refusal. Calculating
in his own mind the unreasonably great advantages which would be
conferred on such a young lady as Miss Crawley by a marriage with
his son, he declared to himself that any girl must be very wicked
indeed who should expect, or even accept, so much more than was her
due;--but nevertheless he could not bring himself to believe that
any girl, when so tempted, would, in sincerity, decline to commit
this great wickedness. If he was to do any good by seeing Miss
Crawley, must it not consist in a proper explanation to her of the
selfishness, abomination, and altogether damnable blackness of such
wickedness as this on the part of a young woman in her circumstances?
"Heaven and earth!" he must say, "here are you, without a penny in
your pocket, with hardly decent raiment on your back, with a thief
for your father, and you think that you are to come and share all
the wealth that the Grantlys have amassed, that you are to have
a husband with broad acres, a big house, and game preserves, and
become one of a family whose name has never been touched by a single
accusation,--no, not a suspicion? No;--injustice such as that shall
never be done betwixt you and me. You may wring my heart, and you
may ruin my son; but the broad acres and the big house, and the game
preserves, and the rest of it, shall never be your reward for doing
so." How was all that to be told effectively to a young woman in
gentle words? And then how was a man in the archdeacon's position
to be desirous of gentle words,--gentle words which would not be
efficient,--when he knew well in his heart of hearts that he had
nothing but his threats on which to depend. He had no more power of
disinheriting his own son for such an offence as that contemplated
than he had of blowing out his own brains, and he knew that it was
so. He was a man incapable of such persistency of wrath against one
whom he loved. He was neither cruel enough nor strong enough to do
such a thing. He could only threaten to do it, and make what best use
he might of threats, whilst threats might be of avail. In spite of
all that he had said to his wife, to Lady Lufton, and to himself, he
knew very well that if his son did sin in this way he, the father,
would forgive the sin of the son.

In going across from the front gate of the Court to the parsonage
there was a place where three roads met, and on this spot there stood
a finger-post. Round this fin