a baronet's
lady! Why, doctor, what is it you expect for this girl?"

"Not much, indeed; not much. A quiet heart and a quiet home; not much
more."

"Thorne, if you will be ruled by me in this, she shall be the most
topping woman in this county."

"My friend, my friend, why thus grieve me? Why should you thus harass
yourself? I tell you it is impossible. They have never seen each
other; they have nothing, and can have nothing in common; their
tastes, and wishes, and pursuits are different. Besides, Scatcherd,
marriages never answer that are so made; believe me, it is
impossible."

The contractor threw himself back on his bed, and lay for some ten
minutes perfectly quiet; so much so that the doctor began to think
that he was sleeping. So thinking, and wearied by the watching,
Dr Thorne was beginning to creep quietly from the room, when his
companion again roused himself, almost with vehemence.

"You won't do this thing for me, then?" said he.

"Do it! It is not for you or me to do such things as that. Such
things must be left to those concerned themselves."

"You will not even help me?"

"Not in this thing, Sir Roger."

"Then, by ----, she shall not under any circumstances ever have a
shilling of mine. Give me some of that stuff there," and he again
pointed to the brandy bottle which stood ever within his sight.

The doctor poured out and handed to him another small modicum of
spirit.

"Nonsense, man; fill the glass. I'll stand no nonsense now. I'll be
master in my own house to the last. Give it here, I tell you. Ten
thousand devils are tearing me within. You--you could have comforted
me; but you would not. Fill the glass I tell you."

"I should be killing you were I to do it."

"Killing me! killing me! you are always talking of killing me. Do you
suppose that I am afraid to die? Do not I know how soon it is coming?
Give me the brandy, I say, or I will be out across the room to fetch
it."

"No, Scatcherd. I cannot give it to you; not while I am here. Do you
remember how you were engaged this morning?"--he had that morning
taken the sacrament from the parish clergyman--"you would not wish to
make me guilty of murder, would you?"

"Nonsense! You are talking nonsense; habit is second nature. I tell
you I shall sink without it. Why, you know I always get it directly
your back is turned. Come, I will not be bullied in my own house;
give me that bottle, I say!"--and Sir Roger essayed, vainly enough,
to rai