get me out of your way. But I shan't marry to please _you._ I
needn't either. There is somebody else who wants to marry me besides
your--_your_ candidate!" with an indignant glance. "I have had a
letter from Sir Hastings this afternoon. And," rebelliously, "I
haven't answered it yet."

"Then you shall answer it now," says the professor. "And you shall
say 'no' to him."

"Why? Because you order me?"

"Partly because of that. Partly because I trust to your own
instincts to see the wisdom of so doing."

"Ah! you beg the question," says he, "but I'm not so sure I shall
obey you for all that."

"Perpetua! Do not speak to me like that, I implore you," says the
professor, very pale. "Do you think I am not saying all this for
your good? Sir Hastings--he is my brother--it is hard for me to
explain myself, but he will not make you happy."

"Happy! _You_ think of my happiness?"

"Of what else?" A strange yearning look comes into his eyes. "God
knows it is _all_ I think of," says he.

"And so you would marry me to Mr. Hardinge?"

"Hardinge is a good man, and--he loves you."