, and, standing by the wheel of the gig, whispered a word or two
into his ear. "If you love me, Henry, you will postpone the sale. Do
it for my sake." There came across his face a look of great pain, but
he answered her not a word.

The archdeacon was walking about the room striking one hand open
with the other closed, clearly in a tumult of anger, when his wife
returned to him. "I have done all that I can," he said,--"all that I
can; more, indeed, than was becoming for me. Upon his own head be it.
Upon his own head be it."

"What is it you fear?" she asked.

"I fear nothing. But if he chooses to sell his things at Cosby Lodge
he must abide the consequences. They shall not be replaced with my
money."

"What will it matter if he does sell them?"

"Matter! Do you think there is a single person in the county who will
not know that his doing so is a sign that he has quarrelled with me?"

"But he has not quarrelled with you."

"I can tell you, then, that in that case, I shall have quarrelled
with him! I have not been a hard father, but there are some things
which a man cannot bear. Of course you will take his part."

"I am taking no part. I only want to see peace between you."

"Peace!--yes; peace indeed. I am to yield in everything. I am to be
nobody. Look here;--as sure as ever an auctioneer's hammer is raised
at Cosby Lodge, I will alter the settlement of the property. Every
acre shall go to Charles. There is my word for it." The poor woman
had nothing more to say;--nothing more to say at that moment. She
thought that at the present conjuncture her husband was less in the
wrong than her son, but she could not tell him so lest she should
strengthen him in his wrath.

Henry Grantly found his grandfather in bed, with Posy seated on the
bed beside him. "My father told me that you were not quite well, and
I thought that I would look in," said the major.

"Thank you, my dear;--it is very good of you. There is not much the
matter with me, but I am not quite so strong as I was once." And the
old man smiled as he held his grandson's hand.

"And how is cousin Posy?" said the major.

"Posy is quite well;--isn't she, my darling?" said the old man.

"Grandpa doesn't go to the cathedral now," said Posy; "so I come in
to talk to him. Don't I, grandpa?"

"And to play cat's-cradle;--only we have not had any cat's-cradle
this morning,--have we, Posy?"

"Mrs. Baxter told me not to play this morning, because it's cold for