Sir Simon came down next morning in high displeasure. He was angry, disappointed, aggrieved. Here he had been at considerable pains of ingenuity and forethought to provide a model husband for Franceline, a young fellow whom any girl ought to jump at--high-principled, unencumbered rent-roll, good-looking, good-tempered--and the little minx turns up her nose at him, and sends him to the right-about! Such perverseness and folly were not to be tolerated. What did she mean by it? What did she see amiss in Anwyll? Sir Simon was for having her up for a round lecture. But Raymond would not allow this. He might groan in his inmost heart over Franceline’s refusal, but he was not going to let her be bullied by anybody; not even by Sir Simon. He stood up for his child, and defended her as if he had fully approved of her conduct. “I’ll tell you what it is, Bourbonais, you’re just as great a fool as she is; only she is a child, and knows nothing of life, and can’t see the madness of what she is doing. But you ought to know better. I have no patience with you. When one thinks of what this marriage would do for both of you--lifting you out of penury, restoring your daughter to her proper position in the world, and securing her future, so that, if you were called away to-morrow, you need have no care or anxiety about her! And to think of your backing her up in rejecting it all!” “I did not back her up in it. I deplore her having done so,” replied Raymond. “But I will not coerce her; her happiness is dearer to me than her interest or my own.” “What tomfoolery! As if her interest and her happiness were not identical in this case! A man who is fond of her, and rich enough to give her everything in life a girl could wish for! What does she want besides?” demanded Sir Simon angrily. “I believe she wants nothing, except to be left with her old father. She does not care for Capt. Anwyll,” said Raymond; but his French mind felt this was very weak argument. “The devil she doesn’t! Who does she care for?” retorted the baronet. But he had no sooner uttered the words than he regretted them; they seemed to recoil on him like a stone flung too near. He seized his hat, and, muttering impatiently something about the nonsense of giving into childish fancies, etc., strode out of the cottage, and did not show himself there for several days.