lawyer to be more unwelcome than I felt it at
that moment. He looked ready for anything
in the way of an obstructive proceeding—
capable even of keeping the peace, with Rachel
for one of the combatants!

"This is a pleasant surprise, sir," said Mr.
Ablewhite, addressing himself with his deceptive
cordiality to Mr. Bruff. "When I left your
office yesterday, I didn't expect to have the
honour of seeing you at Brighton today."

"I turned over our conversation in my mind,
after you had gone," replied Mr. Bruff. "And
it occurred to me that I might perhaps be of
some use on this occasion. I was just in time
to catch the train, and I had no opportunity of
discovering the carriage in which you were
travelling."

Having given that explanation, he seated
himself by Rachel. I retired modestly to a
corner—with Miss Jane Ann Stamper on my
lap, in case of emergency. My aunt sat at the
window, placidly fanning herself as usual. Mr.
Ablewhite stood up in the middle of the room,
with his bald head much pinker than I had
ever seen it yet, and addressed himself in the
most affectionate manner to his niece.

"Rachel, my dear," he said, "I have heard
some very extraordinary news from Godfrey.
And I am here to inquire about it. You have a
sitting-room of your own in this house. Will
you honour me by showing me the way to it?"

Rachel never moved. Whether she was
determined to bring matters to a crisis, or whether
she was prompted by some private sign from
Mr. Bruff, is more than I can tell. She declined
doing old Mr. Ablewhite the honour of
conducting him to her sitting-room.

"Whatever you wish to say to me," she
answered, "can be said here—in the presence
of my relatives, and in the presence" (she
looked at Mr. Bruff) "of my mother's trusted
old friend."

"Just as you please, my dear," said the
amiable Mr. Ablewhite. He took a chair. The
rest of them looked at his face—as if they
expected it, after seventy years of worldly training,
to speak the truth. I looked at the top of
his bald head; having noticed, on other
occasions, that the temper which was really in him
had a habit of registering itself there.

"Some weeks ago," pursued the old gentleman,
"my son informed me that Miss Verinder
had done him the honour to engage herself to
marry him. Is it possible, Rachel, that he can
have misinterpreted—or presumed upon—what
you really said to him?"

"Certainly not," she replied. "I did
engage myself to marry him."

"Very frankly answered!" said Mr.
Ablewhite. "And most satisfactory, my dear, so
far. In respect to what happened some weeks
since, Godfrey has made no mistake. The error
is evidently in what he told me yesterday. I
begin to see it now. You and he have had a
lovers' quarrel—and my foolish son has
interpreted it seriously. Ah! I should have known
better than that, at his age."

The fallen nature in Rachel—the mother
Eve, so to speak—began to chafe at this.

"Pray let us understand each other, Mr.
Ablewhite," she said. "Nothing in the least
like a quarrel took place yesterday between
your son and me. If he told you that I
proposed breaking off our marriage engagement,
and that he agreed on his side—he told you the
truth."

The self-registering thermometer at the top
of Mr. Ablewhite's bald head, began to indicate
a rise of temper. His face was more amiable
than ever—but there was the pink at the top
of his face, a shade deeper already!

"Come, come, my dear!" he said in his
most soothing manner, "now don't be angry,
and don't be hard on poor Godfrey! He has
evidently said some unfortunate thing. He
was always clumsy from a child—but he means
well, Rachel, he means well!"

"Mr. Ablewhite, I have either expressed
myself very badly, or you are purposely
mistaking me. Once for all, it is a settled thing
between your son and myself that we remain,
for the rest of our lives, cousins and nothing
more. Is that plain enough?"

The tone in which she said those words made
it impossible, even for old Mr. Ablewhite, to
mistake her any longer. His thermometer
went up another degree, and his voice when he
next spoke, ceased to be the voice which is
appropriate to a notoriously good-natured man.

"I am to understand, then," he said, "that
your marriage engagement is broken off?"

"You are to understand that, Mr. Ablewhite,
if you please."

"I am also to take it as a matter of fact that
the proposal to withdraw from the engagement
came, in the first instance, from you?"

"It came, in the first instance, from me.
And it met, as I have told you, with your son's
consent and approval."

The thermometer went up to the top of the
register. I mean, the pink changed suddenly
to scarlet.

"My son is a mean-spirited hound!" cried
this furious old worldling. "In justice to
myself as his father—not in justice to him—I beg
to ask you, Miss Verinder, what complaint you
have to make of Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite?"

Here Mr. Bruff interfered for the first time.

"You are not bound to answer that question,"
he said to Rachel.

Old Mr. Ablewhite fastened on him instantly.

"Don't forget, sir," he said, "that you are
a self-invited guest here. Your interference
would have come with a better grace if you
had waited until it was asked for."

Mr. Bruff took no notice. The smooth
varnish on his wicked old face never cracked.
Rachel thanked him for the advice he had given
to her, and then turned to old Mr. Ablewhite
—preserving her composure in a manner which
(having regard to her age and her sex) was
simply awful to see.

"Your son put the same question to me
which you have just asked," she said. "I