lineaments that were familiar to him. Something had changed her, had
hardened her against him, in a moment. It seemed impossible that
there should come such severance between them. John revolted against
it, as against all the other natural laws that visited him harshly.

'What's come to you, my girl?' he said in a thick voice. 'What's
wrong between us, Clara? Haven't I always done my best for you? If I
was the worst enemy you had, you couldn't look at me crueller.'

'I think it's me that should ask what's come to _you_, father,' she
returned with her former self-possession. 'You treat me as if I was
a baby. I want to know what you're going to say about Mrs. Tubbs. I
suppose mother's told you what she offers me?'

Sidney had not resumed his chair. Before Hewett could reply he said:

'I think I'll leave you to talk over this alone.'

'No; stay where you are,' said John gruffly. 'Look here, Clara.
Sidney's been talkin' to me; he's been sayin' that I ought to let
you have your own way in this. Yes, you may well look as if it
surprised you.' Clara had just glanced at the young man, slightly
raising her eyebrows, but at once looked away again with a careless
movement of the head. 'He says what it's hard an' cruel for me to
believe, though I half begin to see that he's right; he says you
won't pay no more heed to what _I_ wish, an' it's me now must give
way to you. I didn't use to think me an' Clara would come to that;
but it looks like it--it looks like it.'

The girl stood with downcast eyes. Once more her face had suffered a