en you have known that people have coupled
your name with his, you've still consented to go to Howden Clough."

"As though a girl may not think differently at twenty-one from what she
thinks at nineteen!" And her voice was tremulous with anger.

"Why should you think differently?" he asked. "You've seen no one else
whom you like better?"

Mary was silent.

"Perhaps you would like to marry this fellow?" And her father placed
his hand upon the letter which they had been discussing.

"A thousand times rather than him!"

"Mary, Mary!"

"A thousand times rather than him!" repeated the girl. "At least, Paul
Stepaside cannot be despised."

"And what is there to despise about Wilson?"

"Oh, nothing!" said the girl. "But had he been placed in Mr.
Stepaside's position years ago, what would he have been?"

"Well, think it over," said the Judge, rising. "In fact, if you care
anything about me, you will do what I say. Surely you've not fallen in
love with that fellow?"

"No," said the girl. "I've fallen in love with no one. But, father,
can't you see, can't you understand what a girl feels? Marriage is, or
ought to be, the most sacred thing in life, and to think that I am sold
to such a man, because--because----"

"Oh, you'll think better of it by to-morrow," said Judge Bolitho as he
left the room. "I know that young girls are silly. But remember,
Mary, I am older and wiser than you, and I am thinking of your future
as well as of my own." He left the room as he spoke, while Mary sat
for a long time thinking deeply.

Every fibre of her being revolted against her father's proposal. She
hated the thought of a marriage of convenience, and her heart hotly
rebelled. All the same, she loved him greatly, and she knew that he
must have been in dire straits or he would not have told her of his
financial troubles. For Judge Bolitho was a proud man, and did not
talk freely of such matters. Had it been simply because her father
wished her to marry a rich man, she would never have given the question
a second thought; but when he asked her to save him from what seemed
like ruin, what could she do? She knew that a judge could not afford
to get into financial difficulties, and knew that his honour must be,
as far as the world is concerned, stainless. How, then, could she
refuse? All the same, her whole nature rose in angry rebellion against
such a thing.

Again she thought of what Paul Stepaside had said to her,