"He will--he will." "He will not. He can't. He hasn't it in him. Gertie, my dear, you may fight for him, but he is a shifty bad man, and I don't believe in him a bit." "This is too cruel." "It is kindness though it gives you pain, my dear. Some men might repent and alter, but I have studied George Harrington from the day he came to the house, and I cannot find the stuff in him to make a better man." "I should make him a better man, Mrs Hampton," said Gertrude proudly. "You would worry yourself into your grave, Gertrude, and if you marry him, I shall order my mourning at once, for you do not, and never will love him." "Now you are laughing at me," said Gertrude, brightening up, and taking the old lady's withered hands in her soft, plump little palms. "It is impossible to follow out your proposal, and I shall marry George Harrington for my dear uncle's sake." "And be a wretched woman for life." "No, Mrs Hampton; even at the worst, I shall have the happy consciousness of having done my duty; but there will be no worse. I shall win." Mrs Hampton shook her head. "Yes," repeated Gertrude; "I shall win, and bring him to the right way. He cannot refuse to listen to me. Surely a weak trusting woman has power over even the strongest man." "In novels, and poems, and plays, my dear, more than in real life, I am afraid," said Mrs Hampton, with a sigh of resignation; "but remember this, my dear, when in the future you recall all I have said--No, no, no, my darling; I can't stoop to talk to you like that. Gertie, my child, I am very sorry, but I am going to help you carry out your noble resolve with all my heart." "Mrs Hampton?" cried Gertrude joyously. "Yes, my dear; and if women can win, we'll make a hero of George Harrington--good Heavens! what's that?" The two women started from the sofa, and gazed in a startled way toward the hall. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. BRUNO GETS INTO A SCRAPE. The sound that startled them was a faint scratching noise at the door, and Gertrude hurried across the room to open and admit the dog Bruno, who was lying on the sheepskin mat, and who raised his head, gazed in his mistress's face, uttered a low whine, and then dropped his head between his paws. "Why, Bruno, Bruno? what's the matter?" "Shall I go up and knock at master's door again, Miss Gertie?" said the housekeeper, who came along the passage just then. "Why, what's the matter with the dog?" "I don't know, Denton; he seems ill. Oh! His head is covered with blood." "Ugh! So it is," cried the old woman. "I haven't seen him before this morning, miss. He has been fighting. Go down, sir, directly. Bad dog!" Bruno did not move, but lay blinking at his mistress, and whined uneasily. "He has been fighting with some one who had a big stick then," said Mrs Hampton shortly. "Look the poor dog's head is all swollen up, and there's a great cut here."