If Edward had quailed before, now he positively trembled, for he knew that Ellen spoke truth. Hers was the master mind, and to a great extent he had become dependent on her. Moreover he had ambitions, for the most part of a social and personal nature—which included, however, his entry into Parliament, where he hoped that his power of the purse would ultimately earn him some sort of title—and these ambitions he felt sure would never be gratified without the help of Ellen. Lastly, he was in his own way sincerely attached to her, and quite appreciated the force of her threats to make of him an object of ridicule among his neighbours and brother-officers. Smarting though he was under a sense of moral and physical injury, the sum of these considerations turned the balance in favour of the continuance of his engagement. Perhaps Ellen was right, and her family would ride out this trouble; but whether they did so or not, he was convinced that without Ellen he should sink below his present level, and what was more, that she would help him on his downward career. So Edward gave in; indeed, it would not be too much to say that he collapsed. “You shouldn’t speak so harshly, dear,” he said, “for you know that I did not really mean what I told you about breaking off our engagement. The fact is that, what between one thing and another, I scarcely knew what I was saying.” “Indeed!” answered Ellen. “Well, I hope that you know what you are saying now. If our engagement is to be continued, there must be no further talk of breaking it off on the next occasion that you happen to have a quarrel with my brother, or to be angry about the mortgages on this property.” “The only thing that I bargain about your brother is, that I shall not be asked to see him, or have anything to do with him. He can go to the deuce his own way so far as I am concerned, and we can cut him when we are married—that is, if he becomes bankrupt and the rest of it. I am sorry if I have behaved badly, Ellen; but really and truly I do mean what I say about our engagement, and I tell you what, I will go home and put it on paper if you like, and bring you the letter this afternoon.” “That is as you like, Edward,” she answered, with a perceptible softening of her manner. “But after what has happened, you may think yourself fortunate that I ever consent to see you again.” Edward attempted no reply, at least in words, for he was crushed; but, bending down, he imprinted a chaste salute upon Ellen’s smooth forehead, which she acknowledged by touching him frostily on the cheek with her lips. This, then, is the history of the great quarrel between these lovers, and of their reconciliation.