to begin with; how then can I expect to obtain
such a prize as dear Julia without a check or
two? You need not fear that I shall intrude
after your appeal to me as a gentleman : but I
am not going to give in because my father has
written a hasty letter from Yorkshire. He and
I must have many a talk face to face before I
consent to be miserable for life. Dear Mrs.
Dodd, at first receipt of your cruel letter, so
kindly worded, I was broken-hearted ; but now
I am myself again : difficulties are made for
ladies to yield to, and for men to conquer. Only
for pity's sake do not you be my enemy : do not
set her against me for my father's fault. Think,
if you can, how my heart bleeds at closing this
letter without one word to her I love, better, a
thousand times better, than my life.
I am,
"Dear Mrs. Dodd,
"Yours sorrowfully,
"but not despairing,
"ALFRED HARDIE."

Mrs. Dodd kept this letter to herself. She
could not read it quite unmoved, and therefore
she felt sure it would disturb her daughter's
heart the more.

Alfred had now a soft but dangerous antagonist
in Mrs. Dodd. All the mother was in arms to
secure her daughter's happiness coûte que coûte!
and the surest course seemed to be to detach her
affections from Alfred. What hope of a peaceful
heart without this? And what real happiness
without peace? But, too wise and calm to interfere
blindly, she watched her daughter day and
night, to find whether Love or Pride was the
stronger: and this is what she observed:

Julia never mentioned Alfred. She sought occupation
eagerly: came oftener than usual for
money, saying it was for "Luxury." She visited
the poor more constantly, taking one of the maids
with her, at Mrs. Dodd's request. She studied
Logic with Edward. She went to bed rather
early, fatigued, it would appear, by her activity:
and she gave the clue to her own conduct one
day: "Mamma," said she, "nobody is downright
unhappy, who is good."

Mrs. Dodd noticed also a certain wildness and
almost violence, with which she threw herself
into her occupations: and a worn look about the
eyes that told of a hidden conflict. On the whole
Mrs. Dodd was hopeful; for she had never imagined
the cure would be speedy or easy. To see
her child on the right road was much. Only the
great healer Time could "medicine her to that
sweet peace which once she owned;" and even
Time cannot give her back her childhood, thought
the mother, with a sigh.

One day came an invitation to an evening party
at a house where they always wound up with
dancing. Mrs. Dodd was for declining as usual;
for since that night Julia had shunned parties.
"Give me the sorrows of the poor and afflicted,"
was her cry; "the gaiety of the hollow world
jars me more than I can bear." But now she
caught with a sort of eagerness at this invitation.
"Accept !  They shall not say I am wearing the
willow."

"My brave girl!" said Mrs. Dodd, joyfully,
"I would not press it; but you are right; we
owe it to ourselves to outface scandal. Still,
let there be no precipitation; we must not undertake
beyond our strength."

"Try me to-night," said Julia; "you don't
know what I can do. I dare say he is not pining
for me."

She was the life and soul of the party, and,
indeed, so feverishly brilliant, that Mrs. Dodd
said softly to her, "Gently, love; moderate your
spirits, or they will deceive our friends as little
as they do me."

Meantime it cost Alfred Hardie a severe
struggle to keep altogether aloof from Julia. In
fact, it was a state of daily self denial, to which he
would never have committed himself, but that he
was quite sure he could gradually win his father
over. At his age we are apt to count without
our antagonist.

Mr. Richard Hardie was "a long-headed man."
He knew the consequence of giving one's reasons;
eternal discussion ending in war. He had taken
care not to give any to Mrs. Dodd, and he was
as guarded and reserved with Alfred. The young
man begged to know the why and the wherefore,
and, being repulsed, employed all his art to elicit
them by surprise, or get at them by inference:
but all in vain; Hardie senior was impenetrable;
and inquiry, petulance, tenderness, logic,
were all shattered on him as the waves break on
Ailza craig.

"Sic volo, sic jubeo, stet pro ratione voluntas,"
was the purport of all he could be got to say, and
that was wonderfully little.

Thus began dissension, decently conducted at
first, between a father indulgent hitherto, and an
affectionate son.

In this unfortunate collision of two strong and
kindred natures, every advantage was at present
on the father's side; age, experience, authority,
resolution, hidden and powerful motives, to
which my reader even has no clue as yet; a purpose
immutable and concealed. Add to these a
colder nature and a far colder affection; for
Alfred loved his father dearly.

At last, one day, the impetuous one lost his
self-command, and said he was a son, not a slave,
and had little respect for Authority when afraid
or ashamed to appeal to Reason. Hardie senior
turned on him with a gravity and dignity no man
could wear more naturally. "Alfred, have I
been an unkind father to you all these years?"

"Oh no, father, no; I have said nothing that
can be so construed. And that is the mystery to
me; you are acting quite out of character."

"Have I been one of those interfering, pragmatical
fathers, who cannot let their children
enjoy themselves their own way?"

"No, sir; you have never interfered, except
to pay for anything I wanted."

"Then make me the one return in your power,