"It is untrue, papa!" she answered the unworded accusation. "Annette has told me nothing, sir. I have heard it. You must brace your mind to the fact that it is known. What is known to Mr. Tinman is pretty sure to be known generally at the next disagreement." "That scoundrel Mart!" Van Diemen muttered. "I am positive Mr. Tinman did not speak of you, papa," said Annette, and turned her eyes from the half-paralyzed figure of her father on Herbert to put him to proof. "No, but he made himself heard when it was being discussed. At any rate, it's known; and the thing to do is to meet it." "I'm off. I'll not stop a day. I'd rather live on the Continent," said Van Diemen, shaking himself, as to prepare for the step into that desert. "Mr. Tinman has been most generous!" Annette protested tearfully. "I won't say no: I think you are deceived and lend him your own generosity," said Herbert. "Can you suppose it generous, that even in the extremest case, he should speak of the matter to your father, and talk of denouncing him? He did it." "He was provoked." "A gentleman is distinguished by his not allowing himself to be provoked." "I am engaged to him, and I cannot hear it said that he is not a gentleman." The first part of her sentence Annette uttered bravely; at the conclusion she broke down. She wished Herbert to be aware of the truth, that he might stay his attacks on Mr. Tinman; and she believed he had only been guessing the circumstances in which her father was placed; but the comparison between her two suitors forced itself on her now, when the younger one spoke in a manner so self-contained, brief, and full of feeling. She had to leave the room weeping. "Has your daughter engaged herself, sir?" said Herbert,