The disappointment made her heart sink. She could scarcely speak to him. It was like falling down to earth from the skies. But Mr. Loseby did not notice this. He put his arm into hers as the rector did, with a fatherly familiarity, and drew her to the large window full of the greyness of the pale and misty November sky. ‘I have something to say to you, my dear Miss Anne--something that is of consequence. My dear, do you know anything about the business that brings me here?’ ‘I know--that my father is making some alteration in his will, Mr. Loseby. I don’t know any more--why should I?--I do not see why I should believe that it has anything to do with me.’ ‘Anne, my dear, I can’t betray your father’s secrets; but I am afraid it has something to do with you. Now look here, my dear girl--why it is not so long since you used to sit on my knee! Tell me what this is, which has made you quarrel with papa----’ ‘Mr. Loseby!--I--do not know that I have quarrelled with my father----’ ‘Don’t be so stern, my dear child. Call him papa. After all he is your papa, Anne. Who was so fond of you when you were a tiny creature? I remember you a baby in his arms, poor man! when he lost his first wife, before he married again. Your mother died so young, and broke his life in two. That is terribly hard upon a man. Think of him in that light, my dear. He was wrapped up in you when you were a baby. Come! let me go to him, an old friend, your very oldest friend, and say you are ready to make it up.’ ‘To make it up?--but it is not a quarrel--not anything like a quarrel.’ ‘Yes, yes, it is--I know better. Only say that you will do nothing without his consent; that you will form no engagement; that you will give up corresponding and all that. You ought to, my dear; it is your duty. And when it will save you from what would inconvenience you all your life! What, Anne, you are not going to be offended with what I say, your oldest friend?’ ‘Mr. Loseby, you do not understand,’ she said. She had attempted, in her impatience, to withdraw her arm from his. ‘He said “Give up”--I do not wish to conceal who it is--“give up Mr. Douglas, or I will take away your portion and give it to your sister.” What could I say? Could I show so little faith in the choice I had made--so little--so little--regard for the gentleman I am going to marry, as to say, “I prefer my fortune?” I will not do it; it would be falsehood and baseness. This is all the alternative I have ever had. It is like saying, “Your money or your life”----’ ‘In that case one gives the money, Anne, to save the life.’ ‘And so I have done,’ she said, proudly. ‘Dear Mr. Loseby, I don’t want to vex you. I don’t want to quarrel with anyone. Can I say, when it is not true--“I have changed my mind, I like the money best?” Don’t you see that I could not do that? then what can I do?’