“Show Dr. Hardcastle in,” said General Garnet, gathering Nettie closely to his bosom with one arm, resting the other hand upon the table, and elevating his head and Roman nose to the loftiest angle of scorn. A minute passed, and then the door opened again, and Magnus Hardcastle, still clothed in his rough emigrant suit, entered the library, walked down its length, and stood face to face with General Garnet. CHAPTER XXXII. THE INTERVIEW. Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my hearth and me Hold her from this forever! _—Shakspere._ Thus they stood: General Garnet had arisen and put Nettie from his bosom, but she stood upon the chair he had just vacated, with her arms around his neck, gazing at the newcomer. Dr. Hardcastle stood, cap in hand, immediately before him. They looked at each other. The countenance of General Garnet was calm and impassable; he could afford to be calm; he had his revenge in his hand—in his arms! The countenance of Magnus was frank, open, eager as ever, yet tempered with a certain gravity and earnestness of expression. But a single instant they thus regarded each other, and then: “Well, sir?” said General Garnet. Magnus held forth his hand, saying seriously: “General Garnet, I have come a day’s journey back from my Western road to offer you my hand in amity, to say to you how kindly I feel, and must ever feel, toward the father of my beloved wife—to say how much I desire your friendship—how much we all desire a reconciliation. Will you take my hand?” General Garnet drew himself up and remained silent. Nettie, with her arms still around his neck, gazed with interest at their visitor. Magnus dropped his hand, but continued: “Sir, I can understand the resentment of disappointed ambition. But I do not, and will not, believe such anger to be implacable; not now—not under the afflicting dispensation of your recent deplorable bereavement. General Garnet, I had proceeded a day and night upon my westward journey before I received a letter from Mr. Wilson announcing the sudden death of Mrs. Garnet. My dear wife was overwhelmed with sorrow, a sorrow which I also deeply felt. She reproached herself bitterly with a thousand fancied sins against her lost mother, vowing in her remorse and despair what she would give, or do, could the grave but give up its dead. ‘The grave is inexorable!’ General Garnet, to some extent I have judged your heart by hers. The husband and the daughter have a common sorrow. The husband must have suffered as much as the daughter. General Garnet, can I venture to speak candidly to you? Can I venture to say that, little as your Alice may have been loved or valued while she was still by your side, in your daily path, yet now that she has vanished from your sight