farther converse with you. Nor will I speak of it again to
yourself; unless you wish me to bid you go from me altogether, you
will not mention the matter again.' So saying, Michel Voss strode
on, and would not even turn his eyes in the direction of his son.
He strode on, making his way down the hill at the fastest pace that
he could achieve, every now and then raising his hat and wiping the
perspiration from his brow. Though he had spoken of Marie's
departure as a loss that would be very hard to bear, the very idea
that anything should be allowed to interfere with the marriage which
he had planned was unendurable. What;--after all that had been said
and done, consent that there should be no marriage between his niece
and the rich young merchant! Never. He did not stop for a moment
to think how much of truth there might be in his son's statement.
He would not even allow himself to remember that he had forced
Adrian Urmand as a suitor upon his niece. He had had his qualms of
conscience upon that matter,--and it was possible that they might
return to him. But he would not stop now to look at that side of
the question. The young people were betrothed. The marriage was a
thing settled, and it should be celebrated. He had never broken his
faith to any man, and he would not break it to Adrian Urmand. He
strode on down the mountain, and there was not a word more said
between him and his son till they reached the inn doors. 'You
understand me,' he said then. 'Not a word more to Marie.' After
that he went up at once to his wife's chamber, and desired that
Marie might be sent to him there. During his rapid walk home he had
made up his mind as to what he would do. He would not be severe to
his niece. He would simply ask her one question.

'My dear,' he said, striving to be calm, but telling her by his
countenance as plainly as words could have done all that had passed