That night Eleanor decided that she would extricate her father from his misery; she would sacrifice herself as Iphigenia did for Agamemnon.  She would herself personally implore John Bold to desist from his undertaking and stop the lawsuit; she would explain to him her father’s sorrows, and tell him how her father would die if he were thus dragged before the public and exposed to such unmerited ignominy; she would appeal to his old friendship, and, if need were, kneel to him for the favour she would ask; but before she did this the idea of love must be banished.  There must be no bargain in the matter.  She could not appeal to his love, nor allow him to do so.  Should he declare his passion he must be rejected.

She rose refreshed in the morning, and after breakfast started out, and arrived at Bold’s door; where John’s sister Mary greeted her warmly.

“John’s out now, and will be for the next two hours, and he returns to London by the mail train to-night.”

“Mary, I must see your brother before he goes back, and beg from him a great favour.”  Miss Harding spoke with a solemn air, and then went on and opened to her friend all her plan for saving her father from a sorrow which would, if it lasted, bring him to his grave.

While they were yet discussing the matter, Bold returned, and Eleanor was forced into sudden action.

“Mr. Bold,” said she, “I have come here to implore you to abandon this proceeding, to implore you to spare my father.”

“Eleanor, I will do anything; only let me tell you how I love you!”

“No, no, no,” she almost screamed.  “This is unmanly of you, Mr. Bold.  Will you leave my father to die in peace in his quiet home?” And seizing him by his arm, she clung to him with fixed tenacity, and reiterated her appeal with hysterical passion.

“Promise me, promise me!” said Eleanor; “say that my father is safe—­one word will do.  I know how true you are; say one word, and I will let you go.”

“I will,” said he, at length; “I do.  All I can do I will do.”

“Then may God Almighty bless you for ever and ever!” said Eleanor; and, with her face in Mary Bold’s lap, she wept and sobbed like a child.

In a while she was recovered, and got up to go; and Mary, under a pretence of fetching her bonnet, left the two together in the room.

And now, with a volley of impassioned love, John Bold poured forth the feelings of his heart; and Eleanor repeated with every shade of vehemence, “No, no, no!” But let her be never so vehement, her vehemence was not respected now; all her “No, no, noes” were met with counter asseverations, and at last were overpowered.  Her defences were demolished, all her maiden barriers swept away, and Eleanor capitulated, or rather marched out with the honours of war, vanquished evidently, but still not reduced to the necessity of confessing it.  Certainly she had been victorious, certainly she had achieved her object, certainly she was not unhappy.  Eleanor as she returned home felt that she had now nothing further to do but to add to the budget of news for her father that John Bold was her accepted lover.