"Much chance a poor young clerk would have, if just because he was unlucky enough to take fever, he was dismissed from his post. But, of course, people who know nothing jump to conclusions. Now if I had been consulted at the time, as I ought to have been, I might have talked Chillingfleet round, and shown him the enormity of his own proceeding." "I don't think your talking would have had the least effect," suddenly interrupted George. "If there is a hard old flint in this world, its Chillingfleet. Every one knows his character." My father frowned at George's presuming to doubt his powers of eloquence. After a pause, he said, emphatically: "Your mother has acted in a very foolish way, keeping this affair to herself; but even now it is not too late, and notwithstanding your opinion, George, for which I am much obliged, I shall tackle Chillingfleet in the morning." With these last words my father left the room, banging the door noisily after him. My mother looked disturbed, George cross. How little they knew what revelations might reach them, what agony and distress might be theirs through my father's untimely interference! I felt that I must prevent his having an interview with Mr Chillingfleet at any cost. It was easier, however, to make this resolve than to act upon it. "Rose, you don't look at all well," said my father, as we sat over our evening meal. "You have knocked yourself up nursing that common place young woman. I might have told you that would be the case. If you go on in this erratic fashion you will be old before your time." Even this rather gruff notice from my father was so unusual that I quite blushed with pleasure. "I will not let him be humiliated," I said to myself. "After all he is my father. Hard he is--sometimes cruel--but always, always the very soul of honour. I must--I will save him from what would bring his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave." My eyes travelled slowly from my father's face to George's. George was also hard. George could also be cruel, but he at least was young. George might share my burden. If George knew, it would be his interest to keep the thing quiet, and I felt sure that where I was powerless to keep my father from turning even a hair's-breadth from his own way, George might have many means of influencing him. After dinner I came up to where George was idly reading the newspaper. "Can I speak to you before you go to bed?" I said, in a low voice. "What about?" he asked, crossly. "I can't tell you in this room. Will you come to my bedroom before you go to sleep?" "Very well," he answered, still very gruffly. "Now what is it?" he asked, when he came to my room between ten and eleven that night. "What girl's confidence am I to be worried, with?" "No girl's confidence, as you are pleased to call it, George. Now listen. Our father must not see Mr Chillingfleet in the morning. He _must_ not--he _shall_ not. You, George, must prevent it."