in his honesty and greatness of character,--and had been too often
admitted by herself to be the guardian angel of the family,--for her to
stand against him. But she still thought that had he persevered, Hetta
would have become his wife.

It was late that evening before Roger found Paul Montague, who had
only then returned from Liverpool with Fisker,--whose subsequent doings
have been recorded somewhat out of their turn.

'I don't know what letter you mean,' said Paul.

'You wrote to her?'

'Certainly I wrote to her. I wrote to her twice. My last letter was
one which I think she ought to have answered. She had accepted me, and
had given me a right to tell my own story when she unfortunately heard
from other sources the story of my journey to Lowestoft with Mrs
Hurtle.' Paul pleaded his own case with indignant heat, not
understanding at first that Roger had come to him on a friendly
mission.

'She did answer your letter.'

'I have not had a line from her;--not a word!'

'She did answer your letter.'

'What did she say to me?'

'Nay,--you must ask her that.'

'But if she will not see me?'

'She will see you. I can tell you that. And I will tell you this
also;--that she wrote to you as a girl writes to the lover whom she
does wish to see.'

'Is that true?' exclaimed Paul, jumping up.

'I am here especially to tell you that it is true. I should hardly
come on such a message if there were a doubt. You may go to her, and
need have nothing to fear,--unless, indeed, it be the opposition of
her mother.'

'She is stronger than her mother,' said Paul.

'I think she is. And now I wish you to hear what I have to say.'

'Of course,' said Paul, sitting down suddenly. Up to this moment Roger
Carbury, though he had certainly brought glad tidings, had not
communicated them as a joyous, sympathetic messenger. His face had
been severe, and the tone of his voice almost harsh; and Paul,
remembering well the words of the last letter which his old friend had
written him, did not expect personal kindness. Roger would probably
say very disagreeable things to him, which he must bear with all the
patience which he could summon to his assistance.

'You know my what feelings have been,' Roger began, 'and how deeply I
have resented what I thought to be an interference with my affections.
But no quarrel between you and me, whatever the rights of it may be--'

'I have never quarrelled with you,' Paul began.

'If you will lis