ntentional wrong. He had simply grown
into an affection too sweet to be spoken of, too uncertain and immature
to be subjected to the prudential rules of daily life; yet, had the
question been plainly put to him, he would have gone at once to the
squire, and said, "I love Charlotte, and I ask for your sanction to my
love." He would have felt such an acknowledgment to be the father's most
sacred and evident right, and he was thinking of making it at the very
hour in which Sandal was feeling bitterly toward him for its omission.
And thus the old, old tragedy of mutual misunderstanding works to
sorrowful ends.

The night of the sheep-shearing the squire could not sleep. To lay awake
and peer into the future through the dark hours was a new experience,
and it made him full of restless anxieties. Of course he expected Sophia
and Charlotte to marry, but not just yet. He had so far persistently
postponed the consideration of this subject, and he was angry at Stephen
Latrigg for showing him that further delay might be dangerous to his own
plans.

"A presumptuous young coxcomb," he muttered. "Does he think that being
'top-shearer' gives him a right to make love to Charlotte Sandal?"

In the morning he wrote the following letter:--

NEPHEW JULIUS SANDAL,--I hear you are at Oxford, and I
should think you would wish to make the acquaintance of your
nearest relatives. They will be glad to see you at Seat-Sandal
during the vacation, if your liking leads you that way. To hear
soon from you is the hope of your affectionate uncle,

WILLIAM SANDAL, _of Sandal-Side_.

He finished the autograph with a broad flourish, and handed the paper to
his wife. "What do you think of that, Alice? Eh? What?"

There was a short silence, then Mrs. Sandal laid the note upon the
table. "I don't think over much of it, William. Good-fortune won't bear
hurrying. Can't you wait till events ripen naturally?"

"And have all my plans put out of the way?"

"Are you sure that your plans are the best plans?"

"They will be a bit better than any Charlotte and Stephen Latrigg have
made."

"I don't believe they have such a thing as a plan between them. But if
you think so, send Charlotte to her aunt Lockerby for a few months. Love
is just like fire: it goes out if it hasn't fuel."

"Nay, I want Charlotte here. After our Harry, Julius is the next heir,
and I'm set on him marrying one of the girls. If he doesn't like Sophia
he