‘_I_ have dared, sir,’ replied the father, determinedly. ‘You stole my living daughter from me, but you shall not have her now that she is dead! I have ordered, or rather my kind friend Hindes here has ordered, every preparation to be made for the conveyance of her precious remains to Hampstead, where I shall take her by train to-morrow, and there our connection ends. You have done me all the injury in your power, and I never wish to see your face again, either in this world or the next.’ ‘But you shall not have her, I say,’ cried Frederick in a fury, ‘she was my wife, and I defy you to take her from me, dead or alive! I shall take her myself to my brother’s place in Northampton and see her laid in the family vault of the Walcherens’. That is the only place where my wife shall lie.’ ‘She was _not_ your wife,’ exclaimed the old man; ‘you married her under false pretences, and if you attempt to cross me in my purpose I will appeal to the law to see me righted, and give me back all that your villainy has left me of my child.’ ‘By Heaven you sha’n’t!’ said the younger man, as he made a rush forward as if he would have seized Mr Crampton by the throat; ‘if you persist in your intention I will fight you inch by inch, old man as you are, for the possession of her remains.’ ‘Frederick!’ interposed Philip, restraining him, ‘think what you are saying and doing. Is such wrangling seemly in the very presence of the dead? You know what this gentleman says is the truth. You _did_ rob him of his daughter, and by a fraud. In strictest justice, therefore, she belongs to him now, as she did whilst alive. But even were it not so, cannot you make up your mind to yield your wishes to his? Think of all he has lost, of how little he has remaining, and don’t deny him this sad consolation of laying his daughter to rest where he can see her grave. It is really of so little consequence when you come to think of it! And if it is a sacrifice on your part, cannot you make it as a little expiation for what has gone before, an atonement which Heaven may accept for the wrong you did them both. Be reasonable, Fred! After to-day neither you nor her father will ever see her in this world again. Why deny him the sorry comfort of taking her body home for her poor mother to weep over? Come, my dear fellow, yield this little point gracefully. I fancy your dear young wife, could we ask her, would rather choose to lie at Hampstead amongst the flowers than in our musty old vault at Northampton, where you never go.’ Frederick gave a tremendous gulp. ‘Perhaps so,’ he answered, ‘perhaps so.’ Then to Mr Crampton, ‘Take her, sir, then, take my angel back to her own people, but let me bid her a last farewell before she is carried away from me.’ ‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Mr Crampton, shamed out of his brawling manner by the other’s submission, ‘and I thank you for yielding the point, but I feel it is my right--the only right, unfortunately, which you have left me.’