s made him ill. She
sat down beside him, and putting her hand in his, as it rested on a
table nervously fidgeting with a pen, she said gently,--

'Now, pappy, I hope we are not all going to jail?'

'By no means; the tenants are most prosperous. I could raise any sum if
necessary, and give you a marriage portion suitable in every way.'

What was there in this marriage scheme? Freda grew impatient and
indignant again.

'Now, really, papa, this is too absurd; If you have anything on your
mind, will you say it?'

'Well--the fact is, Freda, that you--I mean that I, have made up my
mind--you see you may marry, and leave me alone, and I should want a
companion, and--and all that sort of thing, you know--so I have
considered--for your--for our--for my, perhaps--happiness, that it might
be well for me to--to--to--in short, my dear--to marry again; in fact,
Freda, I have resolved to do so.'

'Lady Mary Nugent!' screamed Freda; 'not her! not her! not settled! oh
papa!'

Mr Gwynne had called Freda impetuous, but he was not prepared for the
sudden burst of uncontrollable grief that followed his announcement.
Often as Freda had jested over the proposal Lady Mary was to make her
father, she had never believed that he would marry her. It came upon her
like the news of an unexpected death, or great family misfortune. She
covered her face with her hands, and sobbed till her father thought she
must burst some blood vessel then and there before him. He got up, sat
down; went to the bell, touched the rope, let it go; opened the window,
put his hand on Freda's bowed head, called her by name, and, in return,
was greeted by--

'Not Lady Mary! think of my mother! think of me! oh father! father!
cruel! this is too much! Say it is not true; only a jest. What have I
done? I will be better, kinder, gentler--I will nurse you, tend
you--never marry. I would rather not--I never shall. Nobody loves you as
well as I. Your only child. My mother's only child. Say it is not
true--oh, say it is not true?'

This was impossible, for Mr Gwynne knew full well that he was pledged
beyond recall. But now, as he looked on his daughter, heard her words,
thought of her mother, he began to repent of what he had done. He, who
hated scenes, dreaded tears, would not annoy Freda for the world, to
have raised such emotion! He did not understand it. Lady Mary had
assured him Freda would be so glad to be allowed to marry Rowland. And
she was so discerning and cle