for the files of
the library. You yourself, I find, are highly thought of in Brampton" (a,
not unimportant factor, by the way); "you have been splendidly educated,
and are a lady. In short, Cynthia, I have come to give my formal consent
to your engagement to my son Robert."

"But I am not engaged to him," said Cynthia.

"He will be here shortly, I imagine," said Mr. Worthington.

Cynthia was trembling more than ever by this time. She was very angry,
and she had found it very difficult to repress the things which she had
been impelled to speak. She did not hate Isaac Worthington now--she
despised him. He had not dared to mention Jethro, who had been her
benefactor, though he had done his best to have her removed from the
school because of her connection with Jethro.

"Mr. Worthington," she said, "I have not yet made up my mind whether I
shall marry your son."

To say that Mr. Worthington's breath was taken away when he heard these
words would be to use a mild expression. He doubted his senses.

"What?" he exclaimed, starting forward, "what do you mean?"

Cynthia hesitated a moment. She was not frightened, but she was trying to
choose her words without passion.

"I refused to marry him," she said, "because you withheld your consent,
and I did not wish to be the cause of a quarrel between you. It was not
difficult to guess your feelings toward me, even before certain things
occurred of which I will not speak. I did my best, from the very first,
to make Bob give up the thought of marrying me, although I loved and
honored him. Loving him as I do, I do not want to be the cause of
separating him from his father, and of depriving him of that which is
rightfully his. But something was due to myself. If I should ever make up
my mind to marry him," continued Cynthia, looking at Mr. Worthington
steadfastly, "it will not be because your consent is given or withheld."

"Do you tell me this to my face?" exclaimed Mr. Worthington, now in a
rage himself at such unheard-of presumption.

"To your face," said Cynthia, who got more self-controlled as he grew
angry. "I believe that that consent, which you say you have given freely,
was wrung from you."

It was unfortunate that the first citizen might not always have Mr. Flint
by him to restrain and caution him. But Mr. Flint could have no command
over his master's sensations, and anger and apprehension goaded Mr.
Worthington to indiscretion.

"Jethro Bass told you this!" he cr