these things, and I will call on you in the evening for your final
answer."

He was going, but I mustered resolution enough to call him back:--
"Brother, one word. All deliberation in this case is superfluous. You may
think my decision against so plausible a scheme perverse and absurd; but,
in this instance, I am fully sensible that I have a right to do as I
please, and shall exert that right, whatever censure I may incur."

"So, then, you are determined not to part with your paltry legacy?"

"I am determined not to part with it."

His eyes sparkled with rage, and, stamping on the floor, he exclaimed,
"Why, then, let me tell you, miss, you are a damned idiot. I knew you were
a fool, but could not believe that your folly would ever carry you to
these lengths!"--Much more in this style did poor Frank utter on this
occasion. I listened trembling, confounded, vexed, and, as soon as I could
recover presence of mind, hastened out of his presence.

This dialogue occupied all my thoughts during that day and the
following. I was sitting, next evening, at twilight, pensively, in my own
apartment, when, to my infinite surprise, my brother was announced. At
parting with him the day before, he swore vehemently that he would never
see my face again if he could help it. I supposed this resolution had
given way to his anxiety to gain my concurrence with his schemes, and
would fain have shunned a second interview. This, however, was impossible.
I therefore composed my tremors as well as I was able, and directed him to
be admitted. The angry emotions of yesterday had disappeared from his
countenance, and he addressed me with his customary carelessness. After a