warded away from
you every harsh word or unkind look? Ay!" he exclaimed
suddenly, as I turned coldly away from him, "hate me as much
as you choose, but do not set me at defiance! It is not
Edward, your excellent, your conscientious lover, who would
take to his arms, and cherish in his bosom--"

"Do not talk of _him_, Henry," I exclaimed; "do not for God's
sake talk of him. I have told you already that I shall never
marry him; I have made all the promises that you required. I
am _here_, where I should not be, if I wished to set you at
defiance; but in mercy do not taunt me; do not torture me by
alluding--"

A loud rap at the door startled us both, and awakened Alice.

CHAPTER XIII.

"But there where I have garnered up my heart,
Where cither I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from which my current runs
Or else dries up--To be discarded thence!"

"I know his eye doth homage other where,
Or else what lets it but he would he here?
...........................
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away and weeping die."

SHAKESPEARE.

The knock at the door, which had put an abrupt end to the long
and painful conversation between Henry and myself, was soon
followed up by a message from Mr. Middleton to say he was
waiting for me at the door to take our afternoon drive. I
kissed Alice hastily, rejoicing that the room was dark, and
hurried down stairs. I found my uncle evidently much put out.
Whether he immediately saw in my face traces of emotion which
displeased him, or whether he had heard before something which
had annoyed and irritated him, I could not at first discover;
but I felt sure that he was working himself up to a scene,
which, to say the truth, is a difficult business to a man of a
naturally calm and even temper. We drove however for some time
in silence, which was only broken by two or three attempts on
my part to enter into conversation, he answered each of my
remarks by a short yes or no; and as we turned back towards
London, after having driven on for some time along the
Paddington road, he suddenly said, "I really cannot understand
how a girl, brought up as you have been, can conduct herself
in the way you do. I am sorry to say so, Ellen; but you really
are a thorough coquette--a regular actress."

"How so? What do you mean?" I stammered out. "What have I
done?"

"I was not aware till to-day," he rejoined, "that you had
re