“Great heaven!” groaned the Judge, as he gave Mildred the last five thousand dollars, and left the missionaries nothing. “Great heaven, what will I do next?” and he glanced ruefully at the clause commencing with “I give and bequeath to Oliver Hawkins,” etc. “’Twon’t do to meddle with that,” said he. “I might as well touch Gipsy’s eyes as to harm the reel-footed boy,” and in his despair the Judge began to consider the expediency of praying that no more letters should come from Lawrence Thornton. Remembering, however, that in the prayer-book there was nothing suited to that emergency, he gave up that wild project and concluded that if Lawrence wrote again he would answer it himself; but this he was not compelled to do, for Lawrence grew weary at last, and calling his pride to his aid resolved to leave Mildred to herself, and neither write again nor seek an interview with her, as he had thought of doing. No more letters came from _him_, but on the day when his father’s mortgages were due, the Judge received one from Mr. Thornton begging for a little longer time, and saying that unless it were granted he was a ruined man. “Ruined or not, I shall foreclose,” muttered the Judge. “I’ll teach him to come into my house and say Gipsy isn’t good enough for his boy.” Looking a little further, he read that Lawrence was going to Europe. “What for, nobody knows,” wrote Mr. Thornton. “He will not listen to reason or anything else, and I suppose he will sail in a few days. I did not imagine he loved your Mildred so much, and sometimes I have regretted my interference, but it is too late now, I daresay.” This last was thrown out as a bait, at which Mr. Thornton hoped the Judge might catch. The fact that Mildred was an heiress had produced a slight change in his opinion of her, and he would not now greatly object to receiving her as his daughter-in-law. But he was far too proud to say so,—he would rather the first concession should come from the Judge, who, while understanding perfectly the hint, swore he would not take it. “If anybody comes round it’ll be himself,” he said. “I’ll teach him what’s what, and I won’t extend the time either. I’ll see Lawyer Monroe this very day, but first I’ll tell Gipsy that the boy is off for Europe. Ho, Gipsy!” he called, as he heard her in the hall, and in a moment Mildred was at his side. She saw the letter in his hand, and hope whispered that it came from Lawrence. But the Judge soon undeceived her. “Spitfire,” said he, “Bobum writes that Lawrence is going to Europe to get over his love-sickness. He sails in a few days. But what the deuce, girl, are you going to faint?” And he wound his arm around her to prevent her falling to the floor. The last hope was swept away, and while the Judge tried in vain to soothe her, asking what difference it made whether he were in Halifax or Canada, inasmuch as she had pledged herself not to marry him, she answered: