“He must have meant it for malice, I should think,” said the young lady, endeavouring, but not quite successfully, to imitate the manner of the man who loved her.

“Of course I came.”

“Not on my behalf, I hope, Mr. Neville.”

“Altogether on your behalf.  Fred’s need to see me was not very great, and, as my uncle had not asked me, and as my aunt, I fancy, does not altogether approve of me, I certainly should not have come,—­were it not that I might find it difficult to get any other opportunity of seeing you.”

“That is hardly fair to Lady Scroope, Mr. Neville.”

“Quite fair, I think.  I did not come clandestinely.  I am not ashamed of what I am doing,—­or of what I am going to do.  I may be ashamed of this,—­that I should feel my chance of success to be so small.  When I was here before I asked you to—­allow me to love you.  I now ask you again.”

“Allow you!” she said.

“Yes;—­allow me.  I should be too bold were I to ask you to return my love at once.  I only ask you to know that because I was repulsed once, I have not given up the pursuit.”

“Mr. Neville, I am sure that my father and mother would not permit it.”

“May I ask your father, Miss Mellerby?”

“Certainly not,—­with my permission.”

“Nevertheless you will not forget that I am suitor for your love?”

“I will make no promise of anything, Mr. Neville.”  Then, fearing that she had encouraged him, she spoke again.  “I think you ought to take my answer as final.”

“Miss Mellerby, I shall take no answer as final that is not favourable.  Should I indeed hear that you were to be married to another man, that would be final; but that I shall not hear from your own lips.  You will say good-bye to me,” and he offered her his hand.

She gave him her hand;—­and he raised it to his lips and kissed it, as men were wont to do in the olden days.

CHAPTER XII.

Fred Neville makes A promise.

Fred Neville felt that he had not received from his brother the assistance or sympathy which he had required.  He had intended to make a very generous offer,—­not indeed quite understanding how his offer could be carried out, but still of a nature that should, he thought, have bound his brother to his service.  But Jack had simply answered him by sermons;—­by sermons and an assurance of the impracticability of his scheme.  Nevertheless he was by no means sure that his scheme was impracticable.  He was at least sure of this,—­that no human power could force him to adopt a mode of life that was distasteful to him.  No one could make him marry Sophie Mellerby, or any other Sophie, and maintain a grand and gloomy house in Dorsetshire, spending his income, not in a manner congenial to him, but in keeping a large retinue of servants and taking what he called the “heavy