"Miss Wesden, I have been relating a long story to your father--may I beg you to listen to me in your turn?" "If it relate to the past, I must ask you to excuse me," was the cold reply. "My guilty past it certainly relates to--I pray you for an honest hearing. Ah! Miss Wesden, you are afraid of me, still." "Afraid!--no, sir." Harriet Wesden looked at him scornfully, with a quick, almost an impatient hand removed her bonnet and shawl, and then passed to her father's seat by the table, standing thereat still, by way of hint as to the length of the interview. She was more beautiful than ever; more grave and statuesque, perhaps, but very beautiful. It was the face that he had loved in the days of his wild youth, and it shone before him once again, a guiding star for the future stretching away beyond that little room. He would have spoken, but she interrupted him. "Understand me, Mr. Darcy--Mr. Hinchford, I may say now, I presume--I wish to hear no excuses for the past, no explanations of your wilful conduct therein--I have done with that and you. If you be here to apologize, I accept that apology, and request you to withdraw. If matters foreign to the past have brought you hither, pray be speedy, and spare me the pain of any longer interview than necessary." "Miss Wesden, I must, in the first place, speak of the past." "I will not have it!" cried Harriet, imperiously; "have I not said so?" The minister round the corner would have rubbed his eyes with amazement at the fire in those of his neophyte. He would have thought the change savoured too strongly of the earth from which he and her, and other high-pressure members of his flock, had soared just a little above--say a foot and a half, or thereabouts. "It is the past that brings me back to you, Harriet--the past which I would atone for by giving you my name and calling you my wife. I have been a miserable and guilty wretch--I ask you to raise me from my self-abasement by your mercy and your love?" He moved towards her with all the fire of the old love in his eyes--those eyes which had bewildered her like a serpent's, in the old days. But the spell was at an end, and there was no power to bring her once more to his arms. She recoiled from him with a suppressed scream; her colour went and came upon her cheeks; she fought twice with her utterance before she could reply to him. "Mr. Hinchford, you insult me!" "No, not that." "You insult me by your shameless presence here. I told you half a minute ago that I forgave you all the evil in the past. _I don't forgive it_--no true woman ever forgave it yet in her heart. I hate you!"