“Then, Miss Churchill, as your mother’s oldest friend, may I ask,—_what_ is the meaning of the minister’s nightly visits to you?—for know, Miss Churchill, that unless they portend marriage, not even his sacred cloth will _prevent_, but rather _augment_ the scandal that will ensue. Miss Churchill, I would not for the world that any thoughtless or malicious person should hear you say what you have just said; but, Miss Churchill, again I ask you—why have you permitted his nightly visits for three months past?” “I could not help it—_how_ could I help it?—should I have thought of telling our minister to keep away? I thought whatever our minister said or did was right, and could not be misconstrued, or I am afraid, I am _sure_, that until now, I never thought about it.” “No, Sophie, that is it—_you never thought about it_—your thoughtlessness in permitting the visits of gentlemen in your unprotected condition had already nearly mined you, when the kindness and candor of Mr. Withers rescued you from the neglect and obscurity into which you had fallen; and now his very kindness will through your thoughtlessness be converted into a greater misfortune to you and himself, that is, if you do not marry him; but of course you will do so, Sophie.” Sophie Churchill was sitting before her; the palms of her hands pressed together; her eyes raised imploringly to the countenance of the lady. Sophie was utterly unconscious of this attitude of supplication. It was the involuntary appeal of a weak will to a stronger one. “Oh! I never can—I _never can_ marry that man—death—_death_ would be better.” “Yet, Miss Churchill, you have seemed to speak sometimes as if you took pleasure in his society.” “When he reads or converses I like to hear, or _have_ liked—I shall never like it again; but if his eye runs from his book and fixes on my face—I—oh!—I can’t tell you, but at the very idea of marrying him I grow deadly sick and faint.” Mrs. Gardiner Green, with her obtuse sensibilities, did not understand this, but she answered coldly— “There is no one to compel you to do justice to Mr. Withers, Miss Churchill—no one to force your inclinations in any way; still, as your mother’s friend, I must advise you to bring no reproach upon her memory by your lightness of conduct; as your brother’s friend I must entreat you not to injure the prospects of his young daughter by your selfishness; and as the friend of Mr. Withers, I must conjure you not to destroy his usefulness by your fickleness and unfaithfulness.”