"Very well!" said Anthony, standing up. "In God's name." "He has heard that you are returned," added Bessie. "It will be a pleasure to him to see you again." On reaching Hall, Elizabeth found her father in his room. He was seated at his table, engaged on his accounts, turning over the list of sums due to him, reckoning his chances of recovering these debts, considering what money he could scrape together by cutting down timber, and by the sale of stock. He thought that he might raise five or six hundred pounds at once, and perhaps more, but the time was most unpropitious for a sale. It was the wrong season in which to throw oak, and to sell the crops in the ground would at that time be ruinous at the prices they would fetch. When the door opened and Bessie entered with Anthony, the old man looked up, and said nothing. His sleep had restored his strength, and with it something of his natural hardness. His lips closed. "Well, father!" said Anthony, "here am I, returned, without a shot through me." "So I see," said his father, dryly. Anthony, disappointed with his reception, was inclined to withdraw, but mastered his disappointment, and going up to the table, extended his hand, and said, "Come, father, forgive me, if I have vexed you." Old Cleverdon made no counter-movement. The request had been made somewhat coolly. "Father! what did you promise me?" asked Bessie, her heart fluttering between hope and discouragement. "Here is Anthony, whose life has been in jeopardy, come back, asking your forgiveness, and that is what you required." Then the old man coldly placed his hand in that of his son; but he said no word, nor did he respond to the pressure with which Anthony grasped him. His hand lay cold and impassive in that of his son. Then Anthony's cheeks flamed, and a sparkle of wrath burnt in his eye. Bessie looked up to him entreatingly, and then turned pleadingly to her father, and implored him to speak. Anthony did not await the word, but drew his hand away. "So," said the old man, "you are back. Take care of yourself; you are not yet out of danger." And he took up again the papers he had been examining. "I am interrupting you," said Anthony; "anything is of more interest to you than your own son." He would have left the room, but Bessie held him back. Then she went up to her father and drew the papers away from him. In her fear lest this meeting should prove resultless she became bold. The old man frowned at her audacity, but he said nothing. "Father," said Anthony, "I came here as a duty to you, to tell you that I ask nothing of you but your forgiveness for having been hot-headed in marrying without and against your will."