n that dull silent way of his, which was calculated to
aggravate a lively person like Ellen Carley into some open expression of
disgust or dislike. Of late, too, his attentions had been of a more
pronounced character; he took to dropping sly hints of his pretensions,
and it was impossible for Ellen any longer to doubt that he wanted her to
be his wife. More than this, there was a tone of assurance about the man,
quiet as he was, which exasperated Miss Carley beyond all measure. He had
the air of being certain of success, and on more than one occasion spoke
of the day when Ellen would be mistress of Wyncomb Farm.

On his repetition of this offensive speech one evening, the girl took him
up sharply:--

"Not quite so fast, if you please, Mr. Whitelaw," she said; "it takes two
to make a bargain of that kind, just the same as it takes two to quarrel.
There's many curious changes may come in a person's life, no doubt, and
folks never know what's going to happen to them; but whatever changes may
come upon me, _that_ isn't one of them. I may live to see the inside of
the workhouse, perhaps, when I'm too old for service; but I shall never
sleep under the roof of Wyncomb Farmhouse."

Mr. Whitelaw gave a spiteful little laugh.

"What a spirited one she is, ain't she, now?" he said with a sneer. "O,
you won't, won't you, my lass; you turn up that pretty little nose of
yours--it do turn up a bit of itself, don't it, though?--at Wyncomb Farm
and Stephen Whitelaw; your father tells a different story, Nell."

"Then my father tells a lying story," answered the girl, blushing crimson
with indignation; "and it isn't for want o' knowing the truth. He knows
that, if it was put upon me to choose between your house and the union,
I'd go to the union--and with a light heart too, to be free of you. I
didn't want to be rude, Mr. Whitelaw; for you've been civil-spoken enough
to me, and I daresay you're a good friend to my father; but I can't help
speaking the truth, and you've brought it on yourself with your
nonsense."

"She's got a devil of a tongue of her own, you see, Whitelaw," said the
bailiff, with a savage glance at his daughter; "but she don't mean above
a quarter what she says--and when her time comes, she'll do as she's bid,
or she's no child of mine."

"O, I forgive her," replied Mr. Whitelaw, with a placid air of
superiority; "I'm not the man to bear malice against a pretty woman, and
to my mind a pretty woman looks all the pr