“Upon my word,” said Ellen to herself, as she watched him depart, “I am by no means certain that Henry’s obstinacy and violence have not done me a good turn for once. They have brought things to a crisis, there has been a struggle, and I have won the day. Whatever happens, I do not think it likely that Edward will try to match himself against me again, and I am quite certain that he will never talk any more of breaking off our engagement.” CHAPTER XVII. BETWEEN DUTY AND DUTY. For a while Ellen stood silent, enjoying the luxury of a well-earned victory; then she turned and went upstairs to Henry’s room. The first thing that she saw was the crutch which her brother had used as a missile of war with such effect, still lying where it had fallen on the carpet. She picked it up and placed it by his chair. “How do you do, Henry?” she said blandly. “I hear that you have surpassed yourself this morning.” “Now, look here, Ellen,” he answered, in a voice that was almost savage in its energy, “if you have come to bait me, I advise you to give it up, for I am in no mood to stand much more. You sent Mr. Milward up here to insult me, and I treated him as he deserved; though now I regret that under intolerable provocation I forgot myself so far as to condescend to violence. I am very sorry if I have interfered with your matrimonial projects, though there is a certain justice about it, seeing how constantly you attempt to interfere with mine; but I could not help it. No man of honour could have borne the things that fellow thought fit to say, and it is your own fault for encouraging him to say them.” “Oh, pray, my dear Henry, let us leave this cant about that after all that has happened and is happening, the less said of honour the better. It is quite useless for you to look angry, since I presume that you will not try to silence me by throwing things in my face. And now let me tell you that, although you have done your best, you have not succeeded in ‘interfering with my matrimonial projects’ which, in fact, were never so firmly established as they are at this moment.” “Do you mean to say,” asked Henry in astonishment, “that the man has put up with—well, with what I was obliged to inflict upon him, and that you still contemplate marrying him after the way in which he has threatened to jilt you?” “Certainly I mean to say it. We have set the one thing against the other and cried quits, though of course he has bargained that he shall have nothing more to do with you, and also that, should you persist in your present conduct, he shall not be forced to receive you at his house after our marriage.” “Really he need not have troubled to make that stipulation.”