“Where is the disgrace?  Mr. Conolly is an eminent man.  I am not poor, and can afford to marry anyone I can respect.  I can respect him.  What objection have you to him?  I am sure he is far superior to Sholto.”

“Mr. Douglas is a gentleman, Marian:  Mr. Conolly is not; and it is out of the question for you to ally yourself with a—­a member of the proletariat, however skilful he may be in his handicraft.”

“What is a gentleman, papa?”

“A gentleman, Marian, is one who is well born and well bred, and who has that peculiar tone and culture which can only be acquired by intercourse with the best society.  I think you should know that as well as I. I hope you do not put these questions from a desire to argue with me.”

“I only wish to do what is right.  Surely there is no harm in arguing when one is not convinced.”

“Humph!  Well, I have said all that is necessary.  I am sure that you will not take any step calculated to inflict pain on me—­at least an act of selfishness on your part would be a new and shocking experience for me.

“That is a very unfair way of putting it, papa.  You give me no good reason for breaking my word, and making myself unhappy; and yet you accuse me of selfishness in not being ready to do both.”

“I think I have already given you my assurance, weighted as it is by my age, my experience, my regard for your welfare, and, I hope, my authority as a parent, that both your honor and happiness will be secured by your obeying me, and forfeited by following your own headstrong inclinations.”

Marian, almost crushed by this, hesitated a moment, twisting her fingers and looking pitiably at him.  Then she thought of Conolly; rallied; and said:  “I can only say that I am sorry to disagree with you; but I am not convinced.”

“Do you mean that you refuse to obey me?”

“I cannot obey you in this matter, papa.  I—­”

“That is enough,” said Mr. Lind, gravely, beginning, to busy himself with the writing materials.  Marian for a moment seemed about to protest against this dismissal.  Then she checked herself and went out of the room, closing the door quite quietly behind her, thereby unconsciously terrifying her father, who had calculated on a slam.

“Well,” said Elinor, when her cousin rejoined her in the drawing-room:  “have you been selfish and disobedient?  Have you lacerated a father’s heart?”

“He is thoroughly unfair,” said Marian.  “However, it all comes to this:  he is annoyed at my wanting to marry Ned:  and I believe there will be no more peace for me until I am in a house of my own.  What shall we do in the meantime?  Where shall we go?  I cannot stay here.”

“Why not?  Uncle Reginald will sulk; sit at dinner without speaking to us; and keep out of our way as much as he can.  But you can talk to me:  we neednt mind him.  It is he who will be out in the cold, biting his nose to vex his face.  Such a state of things is new to you; but I have survived weeks of it without a single sympathizer, and been none the worse, except, perhaps, in temper.  He will pretend to be inexorable at first:  then he will come down to wounded affection; and he will end by giving in.”