the profile of his face and person in the glass.

"Pray, is Miss Folliard at home, sir?"

"Again I'm forgotten," thought the squire. "Ah, what an affectionate
son-in-law he'd make! What a tender husband for Helen! Why, hang the
fellow, he has a heart for nobody, but himself. She is at home, Sir
Robert, but the truth is, I don't think it would become me, as a father
anxious for the happiness of his child, and that child, an only one, to
sacrifice her happiness--the happiness of her whole life--to wealth or
ambition. You know she herself entertains a strong prejudice--no, that's
not the word--"

"I beg your pardon, sir; that is the word; her distaste to me is a
prejudice, and nothing else."

"No, Sir Robert; it is not the word. Antipathy is the word. Now I tell
you, once for all, that I will not force my child."

"This change, Mr. Folliard," observed the baronet, "is somewhat of the
suddenest. Has any thing occurred on my part to occasion it?"

"Perhaps I may have other views for her, Sir Robert."

"That may be; but is such conduct either fair or honorable towards me,
Mr. Folliard? Have I got a rival, and if so, who is he?"

"Oh, I wouldn't tell you that for the world."

"And why not, pray?"