Mrs Oswald hesitated still: the impatient Hope volunteered to thread her mother’s refractory needle, and urged her petition still more warmly. A slight fugitive smile crossed the good mother’s face--then she became very grave. “Helen’s father died long ago; he used to be very fond of you when you were a baby, Hope; but you cannot remember him.” “Oh, yes! was he not very thin and pale, mother, with a white high forehead, like Mossgray?--I do mind him.” “Hush, Hope! you are interrupting me now. He was a very delicate, gentle man, this poor Mr Buchanan; but he was not at all like Mossgray, and when he died, your father and he were not good friends.” “Yes, mother, I know that,” said the disappointed Hope; “but is that all?” “Wait a little; do not be so impatient!” said Mrs Oswald. “And foolish people said that your father’s sternness killed this delicate man. I believe Mrs Buchanan thinks so still.” Hope started. “Then Helen will not be friends with us because my father was poor Mr Buchanan’s enemy:--is that it, mother?” “No, Hope, that is not it. Helen knows that her father was a weak man, and Helen is a wise, good girl, and would not do anything so foolish; but Helen is only a poor schoolmistress, Hope, and your brother William, you know, will be rich.” “Oh, mamma!” exclaimed Hope, clapping her hands as the conjunction of these two names threw sudden light upon the mystery, “are they going to be married?” “I very much fear you are not the sensible person you call yourself,” said her mother; “your father will not let them be married, Hope.” Hope’s bright face became suddenly blank. “Mother, there is nobody like Helen Buchanan in all Fendie! why will my father not let them be married?” “Because her father did him wrong, Hope; and because she is poor.” “Because she is poor!--Helen is a gentlewoman, mother!--and because her father did wrong! But that is not Helen’s fault. If my father did wrong, no one would blame William or me.” “Take care, Hope; you are treading on dangerous ground,” said Mrs Oswald; “and though it is not Helen’s fault, your father has made up his mind, and William must submit.” “But, mother,” said Hope doubtfully, “William is old--William is a man.” “And what then?” “I don’t know,” said Hope, hesitating; “perhaps it would be quite wrong, but--mother, is William always to do what my father bids him?” “And why should he not, Hope?” said Mrs Oswald; “does it alter his duty that he is old?” “I don’t know, mother,” said Hope again; “but if my grandfather were living now, my father would not always ask him before he did anything, as I ask you; and perhaps William is right, and perhaps--mother, what would my father do if William disobeyed him?” “I believe he would never speak to him again,” said Mrs Oswald. Hope shrank back and looked afraid. “And all that he has, Hope, he would take from William and give to you.”