Sidney had not exhibited any warmth of demeanour in breaking the news to Mr. Gray; many men might have remarked his quiet way of entering upon the subject. But Mr. Gray was of a quiet, unworldly sort himself, and took Sidney's love for granted. How was it possible to know Mattie, to live beneath the same roof with her, and not love her very passionately? "I think--mind, I only think--that Mattie will not refuse you, Sidney," said Mr. Gray; "she understands you well, and knows thoroughly your character. It's an unequal match, remembering all the bye-gones, perhaps--but you are not likely to taunt her with them, or to think her any the worse for them, knowing what she really is in these days, thanks to God!" "Taunt her!--good heaven!" "Hush! that's profane. And the match is not very unequal, considering the help you need--and what a true comforter she will be to you. We Grays are of an origin lost in obscurity; you Hinchfords come of a grand old stock--you don't consider this?" "Not a bit." "Nor I; but then, men who don't spring from old families are sure to say so. I'm not particularly struck with the advantages of having possessed a forefather who came over with the Conqueror. William the Norman brought over a terrible gang of cut-throats and robbers, and there's not a great deal to one's credit in being connected with that lot." Sidney laughed. "I never regarded it in that light before. What an attack on our old gentility!" "Gentility will not be much affected, Sidney. Have you anything more to tell me?" "Nothing now." "Not that if you marry Mattie, the crabbed, disputatious local preacher may stop with you?" "I hope he will. He has been a good friend to me, and will keep so, for his daughter's sake." "And for your own, young man. I'll go back to my work now." But the work was in his way after that, and all the effects of his strong will could not make it endurable. Sidney's revelation had disturbed his work; he would try a little silent praying to himself--a selfish prayer he felt it was, and therefore no sound escaped him--that this choice of Sidney's might bring comfort and happiness to his daughter and himself. He was sitting with his large-veined hands spread before his face, and Sidney was wrapt in thoughts of the change that might be in store for him, when Mattie knocked at the door. "Sit here--I shan't come back yet awhile. We may as well end this part of the business at once." Mattie entered, found her father busy behind the counter with his stock, said a few words, and passed into the parlour. It was a second version of the proceedings at Camberwell. The father holding aloof, and giving suitor and maiden fair play. CHAPTER V. MATTIE'S ANSWER. Sidney Hinchford heard the door open, and knew that the end was come. In a few minutes was to be decided the tenor of his after-life. He did not move, but remained with his hands clasped upon the table--a grave and silent figure in the lamp-light.