“I never gave it to many people in my life,” said Elizabeth, colouring again somewhat.  “He has as fair a share of it as most have.”

“A little more?” said Mr. Haye smiling.

This time the answer she flashed at him was of proud and indignant bar to any further questioning —­ with her eyes only; her lips did not move.

“Does he know it, Elizabeth?”

“Know what, sir?”

“This favour you have expressed for him.”

“I have expressed nothing but what I would express for any one to whom I thought it due.”

“But I ask, does he know it?”

“I feel injured, father, by your asking me such questions! —­ I presume he does not know, since he has not had the honour of being told!”

The air with which this was given was regal.

“I wouldn’t tell him, Lizzie,” said her father quietly.

But at the insinuation conveyed in these words, Elizabeth’s mood took another turn.

“I will tell whomsoever it may concern to know, at any time when I see occasion,” she answered.  “It is not a thing to be ashamed of; and I will neither do nor think anything I am unwilling to own.”

“You had better reform public opinion in the first place,” said Mr. Haye dryly.

“Why?” she said with startling quickness.

“It is apt to hold rather light of young ladies who tell their minds without being asked.”

“How can you speak so, father! —­ I said, when I saw occasion —­ it seems I have very much misjudged in the present instance.”

“And as that might happen again,” said Mr. Haye, “it is just as safe, on the whole, that the person in question does not come here any more.  I am glad that I have advertised his place for sale.”

“What!” exclaimed Elizabeth and Rose both at once.

“Hush —­ don’t fire at a man in that way.  His father’s place, I should say.”

“What have you done to it?” said Elizabeth.

“Advertised it for sale.  You don’t hear me as well as you do Mr. Satterthwaite, it seems.”

“How come you to have it to sell?”

“Because it was mortgaged to me —­ years ago —­ and I can’t get either principal or interest; so I am taking the best way I can to secure my rights.”

“But Mr. Landholm was your friend?”

“Certainly —­ but I am a better friend to myself.  Can’t do business with your friends on different principles from those you go upon with other people, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth looked at him, with eyes that would have annihilated a large portion of Mr. Haye’s principles, if they had been sentient things.  Rose began a running fire of entreaties that he would have nothing to do with Shahweetah, for that she could not bear the place.  Elizabeth brought her eyes back to her plate, but probably she still saw Mr. Haye there, for the expression of them did not change.

“I’m not going to have anything to do with the place, Rose,” said Mr. Haye —­ “further than to get it off my hands.  I don’t want to live there any more than you do.  All I want to do is to pay myself.”