was in her eyes good; but she could not curb her hot thoughts or her
hot words when things came to be discussed which she did not think to
be good.

"Papa," she said, when Gribbles' long-drawn last word had been spoken
at the door. "Do you remember how I asked you the other day what you
would say if I were to leave you?"

"Yes, surely," he replied, looking up at her in astonishment.

"I am going to leave you now," she said. "Dear, dearest father, how am
I to go from you?"

"Going to leave me," said he, thinking of her visit to Helpholme, and
thinking of nothing else.

Now, there had been a story about Helpholme. That bedridden old lady
there had a stalwart son, who was now the owner of the Helpholme
pastures. But though owner in fee of all those wild acres, and of the
cattle which they supported, he was not much above the farmers around
him, either in manners or education. He had his merits, however; for
he was honest, well-to-do in the world, and modest withal. How strong
love had grown up, springing from neighbourly kindness, between our
Patience and his mother, it needs not here to tell; but rising from it
had come another love--or an ambition which might have grown to love.
The young man, after much thought, had not dared to speak to Miss
Woolsworthy, but he had sent a message by Miss Le Smyrger. If there
could be any hope for him, he would present himself as a suitor--on
trial. He did not owe a shilling in the world, and had money by him--
saved. He wouldn't ask the parson for a shilling of fortune. Such had