‘Robina, you are your father’s daughter, and the heiress of his nature as well as of his estate--no such marriage ever can or shall take place; nor do you wish it should--but I am going too far--it is enough that I declare my affections irrevocably engaged, and that I will never listen to a second proposition on that subject, which has to-night driven me wild. I have quitted your father--I intend it for ever--I will never return to his office. All that I built on my connexion with him is now thrown down--perhaps with it my happiness is also lost--but no matter, I cannot be a dealer in such bargaining as I have heard to-night. I am thankful to Providence that gave me a heart to feel better, and friends who taught me to think more nobly. However, I waste my breath and spirits idly; my resolution is fixed, and when I say Good night, I mean Farewell.’ With these words he hurried away, and, after walking a short time on the lawn, Robina returned into the house; and going up to her mother’s apartment, where her father was sitting, she appeared as unconcerned and unconscious of the two preceding conversations, as if she had neither been a listener to the one, nor an actress in the other. On entering the room, she perceived that her father had been mentioning to her mother something of what had passed between himself and her cousin; but it was her interest, on account of the direction which her affections had taken, to appear ignorant of many things, and studiously to avoid any topic with her father that might lead him to suspect her bent; for she had often observed, that few individuals could be proposed to him as a match for her that he entertained so strong a prejudice against; although really, in point of appearance, relationship, and behaviour, it could hardly be said that the object of her preference was much inferior to her romantic cousin. The sources and motives of that prejudice she was, however, regardless of discovering. She considered it in fact as an unreasonable and unaccountable antipathy, and was only anxious for the removal of any cause that might impede the consummation she devoutly wished. Glad, therefore, to be so fully mistress of Walkinshaw’s sentiments as she had that night made herself, she thought, by a judicious management of her knowledge, she might overcome her father’s prejudice;--and the address and dexterity with which she tried this we shall attempt to describe in the following chapter. CHAPTER LXIX ‘I thought,’ said she, after seating herself at the tea-table, ‘that my cousin would have stopped to-night; but I understand he has gone away.’ ‘Perhaps,’ replied her father, ‘had you requested him, he might have stayed!’ ‘I don’t think he would for me,’ was her answer.--‘He does not appear particularly satisfied when I attempt to interfere with any of his proceedings.’