"It is irrevocable." "I will still not hold you to it," said Mr. Manners. "It would grieve me in the future to think that the matter was too hastily decided. You owe me some kind of obedience, some kind of duty." "I acknowledge it, father. In all that becomes me to yield you shall have no cause of complaint against me." "Very well. Let there be some slight pause before the final word is pronounced. Remain here a week, and give the matter a calmer and longer deliberation. Its issues are sufficiently important to make my request reasonable." "I will do as you wish, father," said Kingsley, after a slight hesitation, "on two conditions." "Name them." "First, that you do not invite my cousin, Mark Inglefield, here during the time." "I agree." "Second, that you do not seek my wife for the purpose of relating what has passed between us." "I agree to that also. I will not seek your--the young woman for that or for any purpose. Are you content, Kingsley?" "Yes, father, I am content." "As you admit that you owe me some small measure of duty and obedience, you will not object to my request that you hold no correspondence with her until the week is past." "It is a hard request, father, but I will obey you." "There remains, then, in this connection, but one thing in respect of your future which I think it necessary to impress upon you. As I have made my fortune by my own efforts it is mine to dispose of as I please. Comply with my wishes, and the bulk of it is yours. Oppose them, and not one shilling of it will be yours to enjoy. To this I pledge myself. And now, Kingsley, we will drop the conversation." Kingsley had a reason for consenting to the week's delay. He had a hope that within that period his father would relent. It was a faint hope, but it seemed to him that it would be criminal to let it slip. CHAPTER VII.