“You can turn me out of doors,” said she, “if you are tired of your daughter, but I am not such a SIMPLETON as to marry a tyrant. No; he has shown the cloven foot in time. A husband's AUTHORITY, indeed!” Then she turned her hand, and gave it him direct. “You told me a different story when you were paying your court to me; then you were to be my servant,--all hypocritical sweetness. You had better go and marry a Circassian slave. They don't wear stays, and they do wear trousers; so she will be unfeminine enough, even for you. No English lady would let her husband dictate to her about such a thing. I can have as many husbands as I like, without falling into the clutches of a tyrant. You are a rude, indelicate--And so please understand it is all over between you and me.” Both her auditors stood aghast, for she uttered this conclusion with a dignity of which the opening gave no promise, and the occasion, weighed in masculine balances, was not worthy. “You do not mean that. You cannot mean it,” said Dr. Staines, aghast. “I do mean it,” said she, firmly; “and, if you are a gentleman, you will not compel me to say it twice--three times, I mean.” At this dagger-stroke Christopher turned very pale, but he maintained his dignity. “I am a gentleman,” said he, quietly, “and a very unfortunate one. Good-by, sir; thank you kindly. Good-by, Rosa; God bless you! Oh, pray take a thought! Remember, your life and death are in your own hand now. I am powerless.” And he left the house in sorrow, and just, but not pettish, indignation. When he was gone, father and daughter looked at each other, and there was the silence that succeeds a storm. Rosa, feeling the most uneasy, was the first to express her satisfaction. “There, HE is gone, and I am glad of it. Now you and I shall never quarrel again. I was quite right. Such impertinence! Such indelicacy! A fine prospect for me if I had married such a man! However, he is gone, and so there's an end of it. The idea! telling a young lady, before her father, she is tight-laced! If you had not been there I could have forgiven him. But I am not; it is a story. Now,” suddenly exalting her voice, “I know you believe him.” “I say nothing,” whispered papa, hoping to still her by example. This ruse did not succeed. “But you look volumes,” cried she: “and I can't bear it. I won't bear it. If you don't believe ME, ask my MAID.” And with this felicitous speech, she rang the bell. “You'll break the wire if you don't mind,” suggested her father, piteously. “All the better! Why should not wires be broken as well as my heart? Oh, here she is! Now, Harriet, come here.” “Yes, miss.” “And tell the truth. AM I tight-laced?” Harriet looked in her face a moment to see what was required of her, and then said, “That you are not, miss. I never dressed a young lady as wore 'em easier than you do.” “There, papa! That will do, Harriet.” Harriet retired as far as the keyhole; she saw something was up.