“No, father; I cannot do as you wish me; my mind is fully made up upon that matter.” “And so is mine. You either do as I would have you, or you leave the house, and seek your own living, and you are a beggar.” “I should prefer being such,” said Henry, “than to marry any young lady, and be unable to love her.” “That is not required.” “No! I am astonished! Not necessary to love the woman you marry!” “Not at all; if you act justly towards her she ought to be grateful; and it is all that is requisite in the marriage state. Gratitude will beget love, and love in one begets love in the other.” “I will not argue with you, father, upon the matter. You are a better judge than I; you have had more experience.” “I have.” “And it would be useless to speak upon the subject; but of this I can speak—my own resolve—that I will not marry the lady in question.” The son had all the stern resolve of the father, but he had also very good reasons for what he did. He loved, and was beloved in return; and hence he would not break his faith with her whom he loved. To have explained this to his father would have been to gain nothing except an accession of anger, and he would have made a new demand upon his (the son’s) obedience, by ordering him to discard from his bosom the image that was there indelibly engraven. “You will not marry her whom I have chosen for your bride?” “I cannot.” “Do not talk to me of can and can’t, when I speak of will and wont. It Is useless to disguise the fact. You have your free will in the matter. I shall take no answer but yes or no.” “Then, no, father.” “Good, sir; and now we are strangers.” With that Mr. Bradley turned abruptly from his son, and left him to himself. It was the first time they had any words of difference together, and it was sudden and soon terminated. Henry Bradley was indignant at what had happened; he did not think his father would have acted as he had done in this instance; but he was too much interested in the fate of another to hesitate for a moment. Then came the consideration as to what he should do, now that he had arrived at such a climax. His first thoughts turned to his mother and sister. He could not leave the house without bidding them good-bye. He determined to see his mother, for his father had left the Hall upon a visit. Mrs. Bradley and Emma were alone when he entered their apartment, and to them he related all that had passed between himself and father. They besought him to stay, to remain there, or at least in the neighbourhood; but he was resolved to quit the place altogether for a time, as he could do nothing there, and he might chance to do something elsewhere. Upon this, they got together all the money and such jewels as they could spare, which in all amounted to a considerable sum; then taking an affectionate leave of his mother and sister, Henry left the Hall—not before he had taken a long and affectionate farewell of one other who lived within those walls.