restore it to me. But I accept that as the
penalty.

I may speak plainly now; for, from, what
you said last night, I seemed to gather
that I had won some liking from you—that
you understood me, felt with me, and liked
me. This remains to me to think of, whatever
be your fate: and when you are united
to her, whom my ungoverned humour made
me think unworthy of you, I shall be more
than content, if you would forget what I
wrote to you this morning. JESSICA.

"There," said Conway, passionately,
"there is what you call on me to
destroy in this wicked holocaust. I must
have time—an hour or two—before I give
you my answer. I am not a stock or stone.
If we are to follow the cold-blooded schemes
of the world, we must devise means as cold-
blooded."

His father looked at him with a fretted
"put-out" air. "Oh, I see how it will be,"
he said. "Everybody is selfish, and only
thinks of their own advancement. You are
caught by this low girl."

"Low!" said his son. "Does that read
like what is low? But you are hasty, father.
I must have a little time, if only a few
hours, to find some way out of all this. I
cannot be too cold and heartless."

"Take as long as you please, my dear
boy," cried his father, much relieved; "that
is, until evening. Most natural you should
wish to do the thing in a gentlemanly way.
I know you will manage it without hurting
feelings, or anything of that sort. After
all, girls now-a-days don't break their hearts,
and look on all this very much as business."

He was put on shore. It will be seen, he
was a rather selfish nobleman. Nothing
could have turned out better, he thought.
This would hurry his son into a most
advantageous marriage, which would be the
saving of his family. He would have been
going on for years "pottering about," and
playing the romantic with half a dozen girls,
until his season had passed by. Suddenly
he stopped, and became uneasy. There
was something in the sketch of that parson's
daughter he did not like. They seemed of
the coarse low sort, who fasten on tight,
give trouble, and decline to be shaken off.
If he could see her, or the doctor! He
got into a fly, and drove out.

CHAPTER XVII. ATTACK AND REPULSE.

A CUNNING and clever idea, as he thought
it, had crossed his mind. There was an
aged and infirm incumbent of a family
living on his estate, and the living was
what is called a fat one. It must be worth
double what the vicar of St. Arthur's
enjoyed. This would surely make all "safe;"
for he was still troubled by the idea of this
girl. She was the danger. There was no
end to the schemes of low, clever women,
brought up and trained in the predatory
habits of places like this, where men came
and went, and where all plans were carried
out swiftly and shortly. They were not
sure if the doctor was in. His lordship
was shown into the drawing-room, where
he waited, filling up the time with that
curiosity and speculation mankind gives
itself up to when left waiting in a strange
room, and expecting strange people. Thus
engaged, he heard a step and a rustle, and
a lady, not the doctor, stood before him.

She was so natural she could not help
colouring, knowing that this was her
admirer's father. But the next moment
came an instinct as to the object of this
visit; and a feminine defiance rose into
her pale face.

"My father," she said, "is unfortunately
out: we can send for him."

"Not at all," said the guest, hastily, for
another idea had taken the place of the
first. "You are Miss Bailey, I may
suppose? My son was speaking of you this
morning;" and he fixed his eyes upon her.

Jessica felt, somehow, that this was going
to take a sort of judicial tone, which she
could not at all accept with the consciousness
that she was, so to speak, innocent.
The other, looking at her narrowly, saw
that she was very dangerous indeed—
handsome, interesting, with a bold fearless
character that might be more than a match
for him, and certainly for "the foolish
fellow she hoped to entrap."

"I am very sorry," he went on, "that he
ever came here. George has the way, so
common with young men, of what is called
amusing himself. These yachting men are
like the Jack Tars in the navy, and have a
love in every port."

Jessica drew herself up haughtily.
"What their ways may be," she said
firmly, "have nothing to do with me. Mr.
Conway, I fancy, would hardly accept that
character."

An audacious girl, thought his lordship.

"You cannot know him so well as I
do," he said, smiling. "I have heard
something of his proceedings, at this place
even. It was time, I thought, that the old
father should appear upon the scene. You
see, Miss Bailey, he is a young man of good
position—heir to my estates and title, with
first-rate prospects."