ubled by conflicting feelings, and was now, as he was
approaching the hour of his final departure, tormented by the thought
that he would leave his niece without sufficient provision for her
wants.

But the thing was done. The new will was executed and tied in on the
top of the bundle which contained the other wills which he had made.
Then, naturally enough, there came back upon him the idea, hardly
amounting to a hope, that something might even yet occur to set
matters right by a marriage between the cousins. Isabel had spoken
to him so strongly on the subject that he did not dare to repeat his
request. And yet, he thought, there was no good reason why they two
should not become man and wife. Henry, as far as he could learn, had
given up his bad courses. The man was not evil to the eye, a somewhat
cold-looking man rather than otherwise, tall with well-formed
features, with light hair and blue-grey eyes, not subject to be
spoken of as being unlike a gentleman, if not noticeable as being
like one. That inability of his to look one in the face when he was
speaking had not struck the Squire forcibly as it had done Isabel. He
would not have been agreeable to the Squire had there been no bond
between them,--would still have been the reverse, as he had been
formerly, but for that connexion. But, as things were, there was room
for an attempt at love; and if for an attempt at love on his part,
why not also on Isabel's? But he did not dare to bid Isabel even to
try to love this cousin.

"I think I would like to have him down again soon," he said to his
niece.

"By all means. The more the tenants know him the better it will be. I
can go to Hereford at any time."

"Why should you run away from me?"

"Not from you, Uncle Indefer, but from him."

"And why from him?"

"Because I don't love him."

"Must you always run away from the people you do not love?"

"Yes, when the people, or person, is a man, and when the man has been
told that he ought specially to love me."

When she said this she looked into her uncle's face, smiling indeed,
but still asking a serious question. He dared to make no answer, but
by his face he told the truth. He had declared his wishes to his
nephew.

"Not that I mean to be in the least afraid of him," she continued.
"Perhaps it will be better that I should see him, and if he speaks to
me have it out with him. How long would he stay?"

"A month, I suppose. He can come for a month."

"Then I'