E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. COUSIN HENRY by ANTHONY TROLLOPE First published in serial form in the _Manchester Weekly Times_ and the _North British Weekly Mail_ in the spring of 1879 and in book form in October, 1879 CONTENTS I. Uncle Indefer II. Isabel Brodrick III. Cousin Henry IV. The Squire's Death V. Preparing for the Funeral VI. Mr Apjohn's Explanation VII. Looking for the Will VIII. The Reading of the Will IX. Alone at Llanfeare X. Cousin Henry Dreams a Dream XI. Isabel at Hereford XII. Mr Owen XIII. The _Carmarthen Herald_ XIV. An Action for Libel XV. Cousin Henry Makes Another Attempt XVI. Again at Hereford XVII. Mr Cheekey XVIII. Cousin Henry Goes to Carmarthen XIX. Mr Apjohn Sends for Assistance XX. Doubts XXI. Mr Apjohn's Success XXII. How Cousin Henry Was Let Off Easily XXIII. Isabel's Petition XXIV. Conclusion CHAPTER I Uncle Indefer "I have a conscience, my dear, on this matter," said an old gentleman to a young lady, as the two were sitting in the breakfast parlour of a country house which looked down from the cliffs over the sea on the coast of Carmarthenshire. "And so have I, Uncle Indefer; and as my conscience is backed by my inclination, whereas yours is not--" "You think that I shall give way?" "I did not mean that." "What then?" "If I could only make you understand how very strong is my inclination, or disinclination--how impossible to be conquered, then--" "What next?" "Then you would know that I could never give way, as you call it, and you would go to work with your own conscience to see whether it be imperative with you or not. You may be sure of this,--I shall never say a word to you in opposition to your conscience. If there be a word to be spoken it must come from yourself." There was a long pause in the conversation, a silence for an hour, during which the girl went in and out of the room and settled herself down at her work. Then the old man went back abruptly to the subject they had discussed. "I shall obey my conscience." "You ought to do so, Uncle Indefer. What should a man obey but his conscience?" "Though it will break my heart." "No; no, no!" "And will ruin you." "That is a flea's bite. I can brave my ruin easily, but not your broken heart." "Why should there be either, Isabel?" "Nay, sir; have you not said but now, because of our consciences? Not to save your heart from breaking,--though I think your heart is dearer to me than anything else in the world,--could I marry my cousin Henry. We must die together, both of us, you and I, or live broken-hearted, or what not, sooner than that. Would I not do anything possible at your bidding?" "I used to think so."