lover, her husband, the one human being chosen
out from all the world to be the recipient of the good things of
which she had the bestowal! The man was so foul in the estimation of
Sir Harry that it was a stain to be in his presence; and this was the
man whom he as a father was implored to help to save, in order that
at some future time his daughter might become the reprobate's wife!

"Papa, say that you will help me," repeated Emily, clinging to him,
and looking up into his face.

He could not say that he would help her, and yet he longed to say
some word that might comfort her. "You have been greatly shaken by
all this, dearest."

"Shaken! Yes, in one sense I have been shaken. I don't know quite
what you mean. I shall never be shaken in the other way."

"You have been distressed."

"Yes; distressed."

"And, indeed, so have we all," he continued. "I think it will be best
to leave this for a while."

"For how long, Papa?"

"We need not quite fix that. I was thinking of going to Naples for
the winter." He was silent, waiting for her approbation, but she
expressed none. "It is not long since you said how much you would
like to spend a winter in Naples."

She still paused, but it was but for a moment. "At that time, Papa,
I was not engaged." Did she mean to tell him, that because of this
fatal promise which she had made, she never meant to stir from
her home till she should be allowed to go with that wretch as
her husband; that because of this promise, which could never be
fulfilled, everything should come to an end with her? "Papa," she
said, "that would not be the way to try to save him, to go away and
leave him among those who prey upon him;--unless, indeed, he might go
too!"

"What! with us?"

"With you and Mamma. Why not? You know what I have promised. You can
trust me."

"It is a thing absolutely not to be thought of," he said; and then he
left her. What was he to do? He could take her abroad, no doubt, but
were he to do so in her present humour, she would, of course, relapse
into that cold, silent, unloving, undutiful obedience which had been
so distressing to him. She had made a great request to him, and he
had not absolutely refused it. But the more he thought of it the more
distasteful did it become to him. You cannot touch pitch and not be
defiled. And the stain of this pitch was so very black! He could pay
money, if that would soothe her. He could pay money, even if the man
should not accept