raged for several days--raged, till it had expended all its strength,
and subsided from exhaustion. Then he called Edith and tried to talk the
matter over calmly with her.

"Now all I have to say to you, Edith, is this," he concluded, "that if
you will have the good sense to marry Mr. Grimshaw, these intentions
shall be more than fulfilled--they shall be anticipated. Upon your
marriage with Grimshaw, I will give you a conveyance of Luckenough--only
reserving to myself and Old Hen a house, and a life-support in the
place; but if you will persist in your foolish preference for that
young scamp, I will give you--nothing. That is all, Edith."

During the speech Edith remained standing, with her eyes fixed upon the
floor. Now, she spoke in a tremulous voice:

"That is all--is it not, uncle? You will not deprive me of any portion
of your love; will you, uncle?"

"I do not know, Edith! I cannot tell; when you have deliberately chosen
one of your own fancy, in preference to one of mine--the man I care most
for in the world, and whom I chose especially for you; why, you've
speared me right through a very tender part; however, as I said before,
what you do, do quickly! I cannot bear to be kept upon the tenter
hooks!"

"I will talk with Michael, uncle," said Edith, meekly.

She went out, and found him pacing the lawn at the back of the house.

He turned toward her with a glad smile, took her hand as she approached