as it does stand -- Rose and I as near as possible
nothing to each other."

"Things can hardly stand so," said Mr. Haye. "You must be
either less or more."

Elizabeth sat silent and looked at him. He looked at nothing
but what was on his plate.

"How would you like to have Rose take your place?"

"My place?" said Elizabeth.

"Yes," said Mr. Haye laconically.

"No place that I fill, _could_ be filled by Rose," said
Elizabeth, with the slightest perceptible lifting of her head
and raising of her brow.

"We will try that," said Mr. Haye bitterly; "for I will put
her over your head, and we will see."

"Put her _where?_" said Elizabeth.

"Over this house -- over my establishment -- at this table -- in
your place as the head of this family."

"You will take _her_ for your daughter, and discard me?" said
Elizabeth.

"No -- I will not, --" said Mr. Haye, cutting a piece of
beefsteak in a way that shewed him indifferent to its fate. "I
will not! -- I will make her my wife! --"

Elizabeth had risen from the table and now she stood on the
rug before the fire, with her arms behind her, looking down at
the breakfast-table and her father. Literally, looking down
_upon_ them. Her cheeks were very pale, but fires that were not
heaven-lit were burning somewhere within her, shining out at
her eye and now and then colouring her face with a sudden
flare. There was a pause. Mr. Haye tried what he could do with
his beefsteak; and his daughter's countenance shewed the cloud
and the flame of the volcano by turns. For awhile the father
and daughter held off from each other. But Mr. Haye's
breakfast gave symptoms of coming to an end.

"Father," said Elizabeth, bringing her hands in front of her
and clasping them, -- "say you did not mean that!"

"Ha! --" said Mr. Haye without looking at her, and brushing the
crumbs from his pantaloons.

Elizabeth waited.

"What did you mean?"

"I spoke plain enough," said he.

"Do you mean to say that you _meant_ that?" said Elizabeth, the
volcanic fires leaping up bright.

"Meant it?" said Mr. Haye, looking at her. "Yes, I meant it."

"Father, you did not! --"

Mr. Haye looked again at her hands and her face, and answered
coolly.

"Ask Rose whether I meant it, --"

And left the room.

Elizabeth neither saw nor heard, for some minutes; they might
have been many or few. Then she became aware that the servant
was asking her if he should leave the breakfast-table still
for Mis