round. "When I say a thing, I mean it. Ambrose, take these
men away. I will not have another stroke of work done here." The
Vicar came up to him and whispered into his ear a prayer that he
would not expose himself before the men; but the Squire cared nothing
for his friend's whisper. He shook off the Vicar's hand from his arm
and stalked away into the house.

Two rooms, the two drawing-rooms as they were called, on the ground
floor had been stripped of the old paper, and were now in that state
of apparent ruin which always comes upon such rooms when workmen
enter them with their tools. There were tressels with a board across
them, on which a man was standing at this moment, whose business it
was to decorate the ceiling.

"That will do," said the Squire. "You may get down, and leave the
place." The man stood still on his board with his eyes open and his
brush in his hand. "I have changed my mind, and you may come down,"
said Mr. Gilmore. "Tell Mr. Cross to send me his bill for what he has
done, and it shall be paid. Come down, when I tell you. I will have
nothing further touched in the house." He went from room to room and
gave the same orders, and, after a while, succeeded in turning the
paper-hangers and painters out of the house. Fenwick had followed
him from room to room, making every now and then an attempt at
remonstrance; but the Squire had paid no attention either to his
words or to his presence.

At last they were alone together in Gilmore's own study or office,
and then the Vicar spoke. "Harry," he said, "I am, indeed, surprised
that such a one as you should not have more manhood at his command."

"Were you ever tried as I am?"

"What matters that? You are responsible for your own conduct, and I
tell you that your conduct is unmanly."

"Why should I have the rooms done up? I shall never live here.
What is it to me how they are left? The sooner I stop a useless
expenditure the better. It was being done for her, not for me."

"Of course you will live here."

"You know nothing about it. You cannot know anything about it. Why
has she treated me in this way? To send up to a man and simply tell
him that she has changed her mind! God in heaven!--that you should
bring me such a message!"

"You have not allowed me to give my message yet."

"Give it me, then, and have done with it. Has she not sent you to
tell me that she has changed her mind?"

Now that opportunity was given to him, the Vicar did not know