is boys, and how
they were getting on at school. By this time I had got my head
again; so I went back to my calling, and said that I had felt
that I could never come to their house as a common acquaintance,
and, as I did not know whether they would ever let me come in any
other capacity, I had kept away till now."

"Your uncle didn't like it, I know; for he got up and walked
about, and then said he didn't understand me. Well, I was quite
reckless by this time. It was my last chance, I felt; so I looked
hard into my hat, and said that I had been over head and ears in
love with Mary for two years. Of course there was no getting out
of the business after that. I kept on staring into my hat; so I
don't know how he took it; but the first thing he said was that
he had had some suspicions of this, and now my confession gave
him a right to ask me several questions. In the first place, had
I ever spoken to her? No; never directly. What did I mean by
directly? I meant that I had never either spoken or written to
her on the subject--in fact, I hadn't seen her except at a
distance for the last two years--but I could not say that she
might not have found it out from my manner. Had I ever told
anyone else? No. And this was quite true, Katie, for both you and
Hardy found it out."

"He took a good many turns before speaking again. Then he said I
had acted as a gentleman hitherto and he should be very plain
with me. Of course I must see that, looking at my prospects and
his daughter's, it could not be an engagement which he could look
on with much favor from a worldly point of view. Nevertheless, he
had the highest respect and regard for my family, so that, if in
some years' time I was in a position to marry, he should not
object on this score; but there were other matters which were in
his eyes of more importance. He had heard (who could have told
him?) that I had taken up very violent opinions--opinions which,
to say nothing more of them, would very much damage my prospects
of success in life; and that I was in the habit of associating
with the advocates of such opinions--persons who, he must say,
were not fit companions for a gentleman--and of writing violent
articles in low revolutionary newspapers, such as the _Wessex
Freeman_. Yes, I confessed I had written. Would I give up these
things? I had a great mind to say flat, no, and I believe I ought
to have; but as his tone was kind, I couldn't help trying to meet
him. So I said I