"It has not done so in Miss Armstrong's case," said Henry, quickly; "I saw enough of her at Mr. Drummond's to discover that." "And you have seen her since at Oxford?" said his mother. "Yes, almost every day for nearly a week; and I can assure you I never met a more lady-like, accomplished girl in my life, in spite of what is said of her father's eccentric plans in her education." Kate Marston noticed the rising colour as it deepened in her cousin's cheek. She glanced at her aunt, and in that glance knew that the mother's suspicions confirmed her own. "I think you told me, James, that Miss Armstrong's marriage portion will be very considerable," remarked Mrs. Halford. "Something fabulous, according to Drummond's account; that is, if she marries a man of whom her father approves;" and the father as he spoke looked at his son. "Drummond told me that the ambition of Mr. Armstrong is to marry his daughter to a man of wealth and position, but if both are not attainable he will give her money enough to purchase the latter. He heard him say once that such a girl as his daughter would be an ornament to society in the highest circles in the kingdom." "Would Mr. Armstrong sacrifice his daughter's wishes to gratify sinful pride and mistaken ambition?" asked Henry, indignantly; "it seems to me an impossibility that any father could act thus." He drank off the contents of his teacup and left the room without waiting for a reply. Again in his little study, he closed the door and locked it, opened his desk with impulsive eagerness, took out a sheet of writing-paper, and drew his chair to the table. "I cannot believe any man could be so cruelly unkind to his only daughter," he said to himself. "Would he force her to marry a man she did not love, even if by so doing he could make her a countess? Does the acquisition of money so harden a parent's heart? I cannot, I will not believe it. I will try Mr. Armstrong before I can credit anything so base in human nature. He will no doubt answer my letter; and if he refuses to allow me to address his daughter, he will of course give me his reasons for doing so." And so the young heart, ignorant of the world, as is the case with most men of studious habits, and with the trust in human nature which seldom outlives a few years of worldly experience, commenced a letter to a man who would, while reading it, sneer at the noble expressions of true-hearted affection it contained, and perhaps treat the writer with contemptuous silence. Nevertheless the letter was written and posted before Henry Halford slept that night. We will follow it to its destination in London, and intrude upon Mr. Armstrong's private room at his office in Dover Street, to which it was addressed.