“Father,” said Elizabeth looking up quietly, “I’ll buy it of you.”

“You!” said Mr. Haye, —­ while Rose went off into a succession of soft laughs.

“Do you care who does it, so that you get the money?”

“No, —­ but what will you do with it?”

“Find a way, in time, of conveying it back to its right owners,” said Rose.  “Don’t you see, Mr. Haye?”

Elizabeth favoured her with a look which effectually spiked that little gun, for the time, and turned her attention again to her father.

“Do you care who buys it of you, so that you get the money?”

“Why, no —­ but you don’t want such a piece of property, Lizzie.”

“I want just such a piece of property.”

“But my child, you can’t manage it.  It would be an absurd spending of your money.  There’s a farm of two or three hundred acres —­ more, —­ besides woodland.  What could you do with it?”

“Trust me to take care of my own.  May I have it, father?”

“Mr. Haye! —­” Rose put in, pouting and whimpering, —­ “I wish you’d tell Lizzie she’s not to look at me so! —­”

“Will you sell it to me?” pursued Elizabeth.

“If you’ll promise it shall not go back to the original owners in any such way as Rose hinted.”

“Are those your terms of sale?” said Elizabeth.  “Because, though I may not choose to submit myself to them, I can find you another purchaser.”

“What do you want of a great piece of land like that?”

“Nothing; I want the land itself.”

“You can’t do anything with it.”

“It don’t signify, if it all grows up to nettles!” said Elizabeth.  “Will you take the money of me and let me take the land of you?”

“Hum —­” said Mr. Haye, —­ “I think you have enlightened me too much this morning.  No —­ I’ll find a more disinterested purchaser; and let it teach you to take care of your eyes as well as your tongue.”

Rose bridled.  Mr. Haye got up leisurely from the breakfast-table and was proceeding slowly to the door, when his path was crossed by his daughter.  She stood still before him.

He might well tell her to take care of her eyes.  They glowed in their sockets as she confronted him, while her cheek was as blanched as a fire at the heart could leave it.  Mr. Haye was absolutely startled and stood as still as she.

“Father,” she said, “take care how you drive me too far!  You have had some place in my heart, but I warn you it is in danger. —­ If you care for it, I warn you! —­ "

She was gone, like a flash; and Mr. Haye after casting a sort of scared look behind him at his wife, went off too; probably thinking he had got enough for one morning.

No doubt Elizabeth felt so for her part.  She had gone to her own room, where she put herself on a low seat by the window and sat with labouring breath and heaving bosom, and the fire in her heart and in her eyes glowing still, though she looked now as if it were more likely to consume herself than anybody else.  If herself was not present to her thoughts, they were busy with nothing then present; but the fire burned.