this fact, was utterly insupportable to him. Accordingly he quarrelled
with Mark, the instant he was apprised of the character of his
attentions, and forbade him the house, To do Mark justice, he knew
nothing of Bridget's worldly possessions. That she was beautiful, and
warm-hearted, and frank, and sweet-tempered, and feminine, and
affectionate, he both saw and felt; but beyond this he neither saw
anything, nor cared about seeing anything. The young sailor was as
profoundly ignorant that Bridget was the actual owner of certain three
per cents, that brought twelve hundred a year, as if she did not own a
'copper,' as it was the fashion of that period to say,'_cents_' being
then very little, if at all, used. Nor did he know anything of the farm
she had inherited from her mother, or of the store in town, that brought
three hundred and fifty more in rent. It is true that some allusions
were made to these matters by Doctor Yardley, in his angry comments on
the Woolston family generally, Anne always excepted, and in whose
flavour he made a salvo, even in the height of his denunciations. Still.
Mark thought so much of that which was really estimable and admirable
in Bridget, and so little of anything mercenary, that even after these
revelations he could not comprehend the causes of Doctor Yardley's harsh
treatment of him. During the whole scene, which was purposely enacted in
the presence of his wondering and trembling daughter, Mark behaved
perfectly well. He had a respect for the Doctor's years, as well as for
Bridget's father, and would not retort. After waiting as long as he
conceived waiting could be of any use, he seized his hat, and left the
room with an air of resentment that Bridget construed into the
expression of an intention never to speak to any of them again. But Mark
Woolston was governed by no such design, as the sequel will show.