he was coming out
uncommonly well. 'There's no narrermindedness about _me_, Trixie, my
girl,' he said; 'I never have said, nor I don't say now, that I have
given your brother Mark up; he chose not to take the advantages I
offered him, and I don't deny feeling put out by it. But what's done
can't be helped. I shall give a look into this book of his, and if I
see nothing to disapprove of in it, why I shall let him know he can
still look to his old uncle if he wants anything. I don't say more
than that at present. But I do think, Jane, that you've been too 'ard
on the boy. We can't be all such partickler Baptists as _you_ are, yer
know!'

'I'm glad to hear you say that, Solomon,' quavered Mr. Ashburn;
'because I said as much to Jane (if you recollect my mentioning it, my
dear?) at the time; but she has decided views, and she thought
otherwise.'

The unfortunate Jane, seeing herself deserted on all sides, began to
qualify, not sorry in her inmost heart to be able to think more
leniently, since the 'Weekly Horeb' sanctioned it, of her son's act of
independence.

'I may have acted on imperfect knowledge,' she said; 'I may have been
too hasty in concluding that Mark had only written some worldly and
frivolous love-tale to keep minds from dwelling on higher subjects. If
so, I'm willing to own it, and if Mark was to come to me----'

But Mr. Lightowler did not care to lose his monopoly of magnanimity in
this way. 'That comes too late now, Jane,' he said; 'he won't come
back to you now, after the way you've treated him. You've taken your
line, and you'll have to keep to it. But he shan't lose by that while
_I_ live--or afterwards, for that matter--he was always more of a son
to me than ever you made of him!'

And when he went to bed, after some elaboration of his views on the
question, he left the family, with one exception, to the highly
unsatisfactory reflection that they had cut themselves off from all
right to feel proud and gratified at Mark's renown, and that the
breach between them was too wide now to be bridged.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN WHICH MARK MAKES AN ENEMY AND RECOVERS A FRIEND.

Mark's fame was still increasing, and he began to have proofs of this
in a pleasanter and more substantial form than empty compliment. He
was constantly receiving letters from editors or publishers inviting
him to write for them, and offering terms which exceeded his highest
expectations. Several of these proposals--all the more