that he expected it. Has he not, now?"

"Yes, sir,--but--"

"Now why won't you have him, hey?"

"Papa, I do not like him well enough to marry him. That is reason
enough."

"Why did you tell him all the winter that you _did?_"

"Sir, Mr. Carlisle knows I did not. He has never been deceived."

"Why don't you like him well enough, then? that's the question; what
fool's nonsense! Eleanor, I am going to have you at the Priory and
mistress of it before the world is three months older. Tell me that you
will be a good girl, and do as I say."

"I cannot, papa. That is all past. I shall never be at the Priory."

"What's the reason?" roared her father.

"I have told you, sir."

"It's a lie! You do like him. I have seen it. It's some fool's
nonsense."

"Let me ask one question," said Mrs. Powle, looking up and down from
her work. "If it had not been for your religious notions, Eleanor,
would you not have married Mr. Carlisle more than a year ago? before
you went to Wales?"

"I suppose I should, mamma."

"And if you had no religious notions, would you have any difficulty
about marrying him now? You will speak the truth, I know."

"Mamma--"

"Speak!" the Squire burst out violently--"speak! truth or falsehood,
whichever you like. Speak out, and don't go round about. Answer your
mother's question."

"Will you please to repeat it, mamma?" Eleanor said, a little
faintheartedly.

"If you had never been in a Methodist Chapel, or had anything to do
with Methodists,--would you have any difficulty now about being the
wife of Mr. Carlisle, and lady of Rythdale?"

Eleanor's colour rose gradually and grew deep before she ceased
speaking.

"If I had never had anything to do with Methodists, mamma, I should be
so very different from what I am now, that perhaps, it would be as you
say."

"That's enough!" said the Squire, in a great state of rage and
determination. "Now, Eleanor Powle, take notice. I am as good as the
Methodists any day, and as well worth your minding. You'll mind me, or
I'll have nothing to do with you. Do you go to their chapels?"

"Sometimes."

"You don't go any more! St. George and the Dragon fly away with all the
Methodist Chapels that ever were built! they shall hold no daughter of
mine. And hark ye,--you shall give up this foolery altogether and tell
me you will marry Mr. Carlisle, or I won't have you in my family. You
may go where you like, but you shall not stay with me as long as I
live. I g