'Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy; and the Great Mogul might have found it very feasible in his lodgings at Kensington; but it will not do in Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?' 'Yes.' 'And renounce Marionetta?' 'No.' 'But you must renounce one.' 'I cannot.' 'And you cannot have both. What is to be done?' 'I must shoot myself.' 'Don't talk so, Scythrop. Be rational, my dear Scythrop. Consider, and make a cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself in your behalf.' 'Why should I choose, sir? Both have renounced _me_: I have no hope of either.' 'Tell me which you will have, and I will plead your cause irresistibly.' 'Well, sir,--I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I cannot choose either. I am doomed to be the victim of eternal disappointments; and I have no resource but a pistol.' 'Scythrop--Scythrop;--if one of them should come to you--what then?' 'That, sir, might alter the case: but that cannot be.' 'It can be, Scythrop; it will be: I promise you it will be. Have but a little patience--but a week's patience; and it shall be.' 'A week, sir, is an age: but, to oblige you, as a last act of filial duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening, twenty-five minutes past seven. At this hour and minute, on Thursday next, love and fate shall smile on me, or I will drink my last pint of port in this world.' Mr Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the abbey. * * * * * CHAPTER XV