his roof. He has forbidden me to have any
intercourse with you: I will therefore obey until he sanctions a
change of conduct. Even this brief note should not have been written
were it not that it would be worse than rude to take no notice of a
letter from one who has rendered us such signal service, and whom I
shall never forget.--Yours sincerely, Aileen Hazlit."

The last sentence--"and whom I shall never forget"--had been carefully
scribbled out, but Edgar had set himself to work, with the care and
earnest application of an engineer and a lover, to decipher the words.

"Dear child!" exclaimed Mr Hazlit, in a fit of abstraction, kissing the
note; "this accounts for her never mentioning him;" then, recovering
himself, and turning abruptly and sternly to Edgar, he said:--"How did
you dare, sir, to write to her after my express prohibition?"

"Well," replied Edgar, "some allowance ought to be made for a lover's
anxiety to know how matters stood, and I fully intended to follow up my
letter to her with one to you; but I confess that I did wrong--"

"No, sir, no," cried Mr Hazlit, abruptly starting up and grasping
Edgar's hand, which he shook violently, "you did _not_ do wrong. You
did quite right, sir. I would have done the same myself in similar
circumstances."

So saying, Mr Hazlit, feeling that he was compromising his dignity,
shook Edgar's hand again, and hastened from the room. He met Aileen
descending the staircase. Brushing past her, he went into his bed-room,
and shut and locked the door.

Much alarmed by such an unwonted display of haste and feeling, Aileen
ran into the library.

"Oh! Mr Berrington, what _is_ the matter with papa?"

"If you will sit down beside me, Aileen," said Edgar, earnestly,
tenderly, and firmly, taking her hand, "I will tell you."

Aileen blushed, stammered, attempted to draw back, but was constrained
to comply. Edgar, on the contrary, was as cool as a cucumber. He had
evidently availed himself of his engineering knowledge, and fitted extra
weights of at least seven thousand tons to the various safety-valves of
his feelings.

"Your father," he began, looking earnestly into the girl's down-cast
face, "is--"

But hold! Reader; we must not go on. If you are a boy, you won't mind
what followed; if a girl, you have no right to pry into such matters.
We therefore beg leave at this point to shut the lids of our dexter eye,
and drop the curtain.

CHAPTER TWENT