"Yes? What then?" she asked, calmly.

"Then you must take the consequences," he said. "The farm and all
I have is left to Robin,--he's my dead sister's son and my nearest
living kin--"

"I know that," she said, simply, "and I'm glad he has everything.
It's right that it should be so. I shall not be in his way. You
may be quite sure of that. But I shall not marry him."

"You'll not marry him?" he repeated, and seemed about to give vent
to a torrent of invective when she extended her hands clasped
together appealingly.

"Dad, don't be angry!--it only hurts you and it does no good! Just
before supper you reminded me of what they say in Church that 'the
sins of the fathers should be visited on the children, even unto
the third and fourth generation.' I will not visit the sin of my
father and mother on anyone. If you will give me a little time I
shall be able to understand everything more clearly, and perhaps
bear it better. I want to be quite by myself. I must try to see
myself as I am,--unbaptised, nameless, forsaken! And if there is
anything to be done with this wretched little self of mine, it is
I that must do it. With God's help!" She sighed, and her lips
moved softly again in the last words, "With God's help!"

He said nothing, and she waited a moment as if expecting him to
speak. Then she moved to the table where she had been sitting and
folded up her needlework.