“So she did, but nothing more. She did not even press it, only the tears came in her eyes when I refused, and I could not bear that; so I went against my will. I don’t want to make enemies. I am sure I don’t see why she should stand out. He’s a very good match in point of property and family too.” “Perhaps she does not like him?” I forced myself to say. “Oh! I suppose not, or she would not be so troublesome. But she could arrange all that if she were inclined to be agreeable to her friends. After all I have done for her! Well, one must not look to be repaid for anything one does for others. I used to be very fond of her: I am getting quite tired of her miserable looks.” And what had this man done for her, then? He had, for his own amusement, taught her Hindostanee; he had given her some insight into the principles of mechanics, and he had roused in her some taste for the writings of the Mystics. But for all that regarded the dignity of her humanity and her womanhood, if she had had no teaching but what he gave her, her mind would have been merely “an unweeded garden that grows to seed.” And now he complained that in return for his pains she would not submit to the degradation of marrying a man she did not love, in order to leave him in the enjoyment of his own lazy and cowardly peace. Really he was a worse man than I had thought him. Clearly he would not help to keep her in the right path, not even interfere to prevent her from being pushed into the wrong one. But perhaps he was only expressing his own discomfort, not giving his real judgment, and I might be censuring him too hardly. “What will be the result, do you suppose?” I asked. “I can’t tell. Sooner or later she will have to give in to her mother. Everybody does. She might as well yield with a good grace.” “She must do what she thinks right,” I said. “And you, Mr Stoddart, ought to help her to do what is right. You surely would not urge her to marry a man she did not love.” “Well, no; not exactly urge her. And yet society does not object to it. It is an acknowledged arrangement, common enough.” “Society is scarcely an interpreter of the divine will. Society will honour vile things enough, so long as the doer has money sufficient to clothe them in a grace not their own. There is a God’s-way of doing everything in the world, up to marrying, or down to paying a bill.” “Yes, yes, I know what you would say; and I suppose you are right. I will not urge any opinion of mine. Besides, we shall have a little respite soon, for he must join his regiment in a day or two.” It was some relief to hear this. But I could not with equanimity prosecute a conversation having Miss Oldcastle for the subject of it, and presently took my leave. As I walked through one of the long passages, but dimly lighted, leading from Mr Stoddart’s apartment to the great staircase, I started at a light touch on my arm. It was from Judy’s hand. “Dear Mr Walton——” she said, and stopped.