ries him or not, and you sit there
and will not raise a finger to help her."

"Let him convert her, I say;" repeated Strong. "What is your objection
to that, aunt Sarah?"

"My objection is that the whole family is only a drove of mules," said
Mrs. Murray. "Poor Mr. Hazard does not know what he is undertaking."

"Is Esther very much in love?" asked Strong.

"You know her well enough to know that she would never have accepted him
if she were not;" replied Mrs. Murray. "He has hunted her down when she
was unhappy, and he is going to make her more unhappy still."

"I guess you're right," said Strong, seriously. "The struggle is going
to tear both their poor little hearts out; but what can we do about it?
None of us are to blame."

"Ah, George!" exclaimed his aunt. "You are the one most to blame. You
should have married Esther yourself, and you had not wit enough to see
that while you went dancing round the world, as though such women were
plenty as your old fossil toads, the only woman you will ever meet who
could have made you happy, was slipping through your fingers, and you
hadn't the strength to hold her."

"I own it, aunt Sarah!" said George, and this time he spoke seriously
enough to satisfy her. "If I could have fallen in love with Esther and
she with me, I believe it would have been better for both of us than
that she should marry a high-church parson and I go on digging bones;
but some things are too obvious. You can't get a spark without some
break in your conductor. I was ready enough to fall in love with Esther,
but one can't do that kind of thing in cold blood."

"Well," said Mrs. Murray with a sigh. "You have lost her now, and Mr.
Hazard will lose her too. You and he and all your friends are a sort of
clever children. We are always expecting you to do something worth
doing, and it never comes. You are a sort of water-color, worsted-work,
bric-a-brac, washed-out geniuses, just big enough and strong enough to
want to do something and never carry it through. I am heartily tired of
the whole lot of you, and now I must set to work and get these two girls
out of your hands."

"Do you mean to break up this engagement?" asked Strong, who was used
to his aunt's criticisms and never answered them.

"The engagement will break itself up," replied his aunt. "It will have
to be kept private for a few weeks on account of her father's death and
her mourning, and you will see that it never will be announced. If I
c