as very angry. Then she remembered
that, after all, Dr. Merchison had apologised, and that he had made his
offensive remarks in the ignorance and prejudice which afflicted the
entire medical profession and were more worthy of pity than of anger.
Further, she remembered that in her indignation she had forgotten to
acknowledge or accept his apology, and, lastly, she asked him to a
garden-party.

It is scarcely necessary for me to dwell upon the subsequent
developments of this unhappy business--if I am right in calling it
unhappy. The piteous little drama is played, both the actors are dead,
and the issue of the piece is unknown and, for the present, unknowable.
Bitterly opposed as I was to the suit of Merchison, justice compels me
to say that, under the cloak of a rough unpromising manner, he hid a
just and generous heart. Had that man lived he might have become great,
although he would never have become popular. As least something in his
nature attracted my daughter Jane, for she, who up to that time had not
been moved by any man, became deeply attached to him.

In the end he proposed to her, how, when or where I cannot say, for I
never inquired. One morning, I remember it was that of Christmas day,
they came into my library, the pair of them, and informed me how matters
stood. Merchison went straight to the point and put the case before
me very briefly, but in a manly and outspoken fashion. He said that
he quite understood the difficulties of his position, inasmuch as he
believed that Jane was, or would be, very rich, whereas he had nothing
beyond his profession, in which, however, he was doing well. He ended by
asking my consent to the engagement subject to any reasonable conditions
that I might choose to lay down.

To me the shock was great, for, occupied as I was with my own affairs
and ambitions, I had been blind to what was passing before my face.
I had hoped to see my daughter a peeress, and now I found her the
affianced bride of a parish sawbones. The very foundation of my house of
hopes was sapped; at a blow all my schemes for the swift aggrandisement
of my family were laid low. It was too much for me. Instead of accepting
the inevitable, and being glad to accept it because my child's happiness
was involved, I rebelled and kicked against the pricks.

By nature I am not a violent man, but on that occasion I lost my
temper and became violent. I refused my consent; I threatened to cut
my daughter off with nothi