"Come in my daughter," he said, admitting Miss Sudie. "Sit down. I am greatly pained, on his account as well as yours, to find that Robert has no explanation to offer. But, of course, this ends it all, and you must take a little trip somewhere, my dear, until you forget all about it. Where shall we go?" "I do not care to go anywhere, Uncle Carter," replied the little maiden, without the faintest echo of a sob in her voice. "I am sorry for poor Robert, but not because I think him guilty of any dishonorable action, for indeed I do not." "But, my dear, it will never do----" "Pray hear me out, Uncle Carter, and then I will listen to anything you have to say. I love you as a father, as you know perfectly well. Indeed I have never known you as anything else. I have always obeyed you unquestioningly, and I shall not begin to disobey you now. I shall do precisely what you tell me to do, _so long as I remain in your house_." "What do you mean by that, daughter?" asked her uncle, startled by the singular emphasis which Miss Sudie gave to the last clause of the sentence. "Merely this, Uncle Carter. I cannot consent to do that which my conscience teaches me is a crime, even at your command; but while I remain at Shirley as a daughter of the house I must obey as a daughter. If you command me to do anything which I cannot do without sinning against my conscience, then I must not obey you, and when I can't obey you I must cease to be your daughter. I shall conceal nothing from you, Uncle Carter; you know that, and I beg of you don't command me to do the things which I must not do. I love you and it would kill me--no, it would not do that, but it would pain me more than I can possibly say, to leave Shirley." Col. Barksdale leaned his head sorrowfully upon his hand. He loved this girl and held her as his own. Moreover, he had solemnly promised his dying brother to care for her always as a father cares for his children, and an oath could not have been more sacred in his eyes than this promise was. Without raising his head he asked: "You mean, Sudie, that you will not accept Robert's release?" "Yes, uncle, that is what I mean." This was sorrowfully and gently said, but firmly too. "He has offered to release you; has he not?" "Yes." "And in so offering, did he express or hint a wish that you should not accept his release?" "No. On the contrary he assumed that I would accept it, and that I must do so in justice to myself. Here is his letter. Read it if you please." Col. Barksdale read the letter, with which the reader is already familiar, and, handing it back, said: "A very proper and manly letter." "Because it came from a very proper and manly man," said Miss Sudie. "You don't believe he has been guilty of the dishonorable acts laid to his charge, then?" "Of the acts, yes. Of the dishonor, no," said the girl. "On what ground do you base your persistent good opinion of him?" "On my persistent faith in him."