Lady Seaman, however, hurried a
great deal of business into that short
interview, and at parting said to him:

"Now, my dear Mr. Leader, show yourself
a sensible man in this business, and
don't lose any more time over it. Follow
your wife's advice, and satisfy the justice of
society. I am a plain-spoken person, Mr.
Leader, and before I see you again, I know
I'll hear that all this has been done."

Helpless Mr. Leader could only simper
and make faltering protest. But when he
got home, he went to take counsel, not
with Mrs. Leader, as he had been directed,
but with his trusty counsellor, his daughter.

She heard him gravely. Then, with her
habitual simplicity, said, " I have seen this
coming a long time. I can see that he
likes me."

"Oh, but if you do not like him, dear,
it would be tyranny. Mrs. Leader cannot
possibly mean it—to make you miserable,
and sacrifice your whole life. I am sure
she can't mean it."

"Perhaps, in time," said the quiet young
lady, " I could accustom myself to the idea,
though he is so young and boyish. But,
papa, as for making Cecil a beggar, oh, you
could never do that! It would be wicked
and unchristian. Oh, never! Though Lady
Seaman seems so anxious for it, I don't
know why exactly," added she, with a
genuine unsophistication which would have
made a worldling laugh heartily.

Mr. Leader knew why very well, but for
some reason he could not bring himself to
mention it. But he said warmly, and with
a very troubled air: "Of course, nothing
harsh should be done to poor Cecil: and
it would be most unjust, and a sin. But
still," he added, piteously, " what are we
to do? They are all making such a point of
it, worrying my life out about it. You see,
my dear, what they all say is that I shall
be a cipher, and that any one can treat
me in any way they please, if this be not
punished in some way. They say Cecil
has defied me—me, his father."

"Papa," his daughter said, firmly, " on
no account must you consent to this
injustice. It would trouble you on your
death-bed; the guilt would be on your soul
hereafter. If there is any sacrifice wanted
to make up for this, I am willing that it
should come from me."

Her father answered, pettishly, Oh,
they won't care much for that, without the
other. Lady Seaman said as much to me."

"Then I can give that up too," she said,
firmly.

Mr. Leader had never heard his daughter speak
so firmly before, and looked at her
with astonishment. It was on that very
night, too, that they heard for the first
time from Cecil Leader. It was a letter
addressed to his sister, and already
exhibiting the lowest and most desponding
state of mind. His health was miserable,
he had been very ill, and he intended
selling out. He could not go back to the
regiment again. He wished he could see
them, and he intended as soon as he was
better going up to town. They need not
be afraid. He would not bring "her" if
they did not wish it. He was very badly
off for money, too, and hoped they would
do something now about his debts, which
his father had promised to pay.

Mr. Leader was thrown into great agitation
by this letter. " Coming here! Oh,
it can't be done. There will be such
confusion and terrible work. You must write
to him, and tell him on no account to
come. Your mother—I mean Mrs. Leader
—-and these people, they would lose their
senses. Besides, he has behaved very
ill and most disrespectfully to me, the head
of the family," added Mr. Leader, warming
up through quite a feeling of terror at
these complications.

His quiet, demure daughter, however,
was still calmly looking at her letter. " I
know I can rely on you, dear papa, on
your own noble nature, not to be betrayed
into doing anything that will be vindictive
or unjust. Poor Cecil seems to be well
punished for his hastiness."

"Oh! I know, of course; and it is hard
on him. And I did the same with your
poor darling mother. My father was not
very well pleased. But Heaven knows what
we are to do! I have no money to keep
him with. Where is it to come from, with
these all about me, forcing me to do this
and that? Really I don't know where to
turn."

It was very hard on this poor little
baited man. His daughter said nothing.
As in the case of many other quiet persons,
a sort of new character was developing
slowly in her, one of firmness and decision:
she had the strongest principle, though
accompanied by what, in a worldly sense, is
called a cold nature; although such natures
often possess more real warmth than the
popular and conventional temper. She said
nothing more then, but by-and-bye would
have developed into something strongly
practical and purposeful. By-and-bye, Mrs.
Leader might unexpectedly discover this
new element of opposition, and be thunder-
struck; possibly, at the moment of victory.