ords. She flew to her father,
and cried, "Oh, papa! papa! you were never cruel before;" and hid her
burning face on his shoulder; and then burst out crying, partly for
Christopher, partly because she was now ashamed of herself for having
taken a young man's part so openly.

Mr. Lusignan looked sadly discomposed at this outburst: she had taken
him by his weak point; he told her so. "Now, Rosa," said he, rather
peevishly, "you know I hate--noise."

Rosa had actually forgotten that trait for a single moment; but, being
reminded of it, she reduced her sobs in the prettiest way, not to offend
a tender parent who could not bear noise. Under this homely term, you
must know, he included all scenes, disturbances, rumpuses, passions; and
expected all men, women, and things in Kent Villa to go smoothly--or go
elsewhere.

"Come, young people," said he, "don't make a disturbance. Where's the
grievance? Have I said he shall never marry you? Have I forbidden him
to correspond? or even to call, say twice a year. All I say is, no
marriage, nor contract of marriage, until there is an income." Then he
turned to Christopher. "Now if you can't make an income without her, how
could you make one with her, weighed down by the load of expenses a wife
entails? I know her better than you do; she is a good girl, but rather
luxurious and self-indulgent. She is not cut out for a poor man's wife.
And pray don't go and fancy that nobody loves my child but you. Mine is
not so hot as yours, of course; but believe me, sir, it is less selfish.
You would expose her to poverty and misery; but I say no; it is my duty
to protect her from all chance of them; and, in doing it, I am as much
your friend as hers, if you could but see it. Come, Dr. Staines, be
a man, and see the world as it is. I have told you how to earn my
daughter's hand and my esteem: you must gain both, or neither."

Dr. Staines was never quite deaf to reason: he now put his hand to his
brow and said, with a sort of wonder and pitiful dismay, "My love
for Rosa selfish! Sir, your words are bitter and hard." Then, after a
struggle, and with rare and touching candor, "Ay, but so are bark and
steel; yet they are good medicines." Then with a great glow in his heart
and tears in his eyes, "My darling shall not be a poor man's wife,
she who would adorn a coronet, ay, or a crown. Good-by, Rosa, for the
present." He darted to her, and kissed her hand with all his soul. "Oh,
the sacrifice of leaving