Juvenal sat in the library, concocting a letter to his counsellor and friend, Burton, when the servant threw open the door, and announced "Mr. Tremenhere." Juvenal was not a very courageous man, more especially unsupported; the pen slid from his fingers, and he staggered to his feet. "Stop!" he cried to the servant, but the voice was so faint that the man did not hear it; then he made a sort of rush towards the bell, but catching the other's calm, contemptuous smile, he stopped irresolute. "Pardon me, Mr. Formby," said Miles quietly; "but I think this interview were as well between ourselves: I see you are about summoning witnesses."

"Pray, sir," asked Juvenal, forcing an appearance of calmness most foreign to his real state, "may I ask the motive of this intrusion?"

"One," answered the other, "which I think scarcely merits so harsh a term, Mr. Formby. I came to save you the trouble of answering a letter I sent, presuming that, as a gentleman, you purpose doing so, even though probably time has not permitted you to accomplish that intention yet." Tremenhere's indignation overcame his prudence, when he found himself in the presence of Minnie's persecutor.

"Do you come here to insult me, sir?" asked Juvenal, amazed at this tone and manner.

"Pardon me, Mr. Formby; no. I was led away by an excusable surprise at your want of courtesy towards one, with whom you were once on terms, at all events, of harmony; one, myself, who has never, by any act, forfeited his right to your good opinion."

Juvenal was dreadfully embarrassed. He did not like summoning an attendant to listen to perhaps a few unpleasant truths against himself; he felt Tremenhere's cause was the just one.

"Pray, sir," he said at last, "what do you call your unjustifiable pursuit of my niece, Miss Dalzell?"

"That is a recent crime in your eyes. I was alluding to a prejudice against poor Miles Tremenhere, who, as master of the manor-house, was permitted to style himself your acquaintance at least; but it is not of wrongs—of past wrongs—I come to speak. I come, Mr. Formby, to you, as Miss Dalzell's uncle and guardian, seeking an answer to my solicited permission to address her as a suitor."

"Your audacity surpasses all I ever heard of," cried Juvenal, bounding from his chair, into which he had dropped. "It more than surpasses all I have been told you were capable of."

"By my worthy cousin, but you are wrong. I come in no insolence of tone or manner, however your dislike may so construe them; but as gentleman to gentleman—suitor, accepted suitor by the lady, to solicit her hand from her guardian." He stood calm and dignified as he spoke; he had evidently set himself a task in this visit—one to go through, before more decided steps, but with little hope of success.

"My answer," said Juvenal, decidedly, though his tone was querulous and weak, "is—that nothing shall ever induce me to consent to Miss Dalzell's marriage with yourself!"

"May I ask your reasons?"

"I do not consider myself obliged to give any; one, however, I will accord you—the lady is engaged."

"Of that I am fully aware—irrevocably engaged."

"If you mean to yourself," cried Juvenal, his anger mastering his fear, "I tell you, I defy you—I forbid it. She shall never marry a nameless, unprincipled man like yourself—one who could attack my friend, Marmaduke Burton, in the ruffianly manner you have done."

"Hush!" said the other, advancing with a soft, calm step; "not a breath even against the dead. You term me a nameless man; that will be proved incorrect some day soon, I hope."

Juvenal shrunk back alarmed. "Keep back!" he cried, "or I will summon aid."

"Do not alarm yourself, Mr. Formby," said Tremenhere, retreating contemptuously. "I would not touch, still less harm, any one dear to, or allied to Miss Dalzell—rest well assured of that; for all I have done to Marmaduke Burton, I would do it again in my just indignation. Did he tell you all? Did he tell you of our first meeting in his apartment, when I chastised the cowardly cur for his base seduction of one almost a sister to me?"

"His seduction?" exclaimed Juvenal—"your's, you mean?"

"Mine!" ejaculated Miles, under his breath from surprise at this infamous charge. "Mine!—did he tell you this?"

"Tell me?—yes! and you know it to be true; he spoke of it with regret, and of your infatuation in guilt, in having taken the girl away to town, where she awaits your coming—and it is to your base arms you would take my innocent niece!"

"'Tis false—false as his own black heart!" thundered Miles, and the red blood mantled in his face, the eyes shot fire. "If this alone be the cause of your just dislike to me—believing this—if I prove it false, may I then hope to win Miss Dalzell at your hands?"

In his heart, Juvenal did not believe this of Miles; he cared little who had been the seducer of Mary Burns, but it suited his purpose to think Miles guilty.

"You cannot prove your innocence," he said; but his uncertain glance shrank from the other's bold, steadfast one.

"I can, and will, if that be the only barrier!" exclaimed the hopeful man. "By the girl herself, Mr. Skaife, your sister Miss Dorcas Formby—by many."

"It could not alter my determination," stammered Juvenal. "I care little about proving, or disproving it, as either way, I should never consent to your marriage with my niece."

Miles's foot beat impatient time on the floor, on which his gaze was fixed, with the knitted brow above it. By an immense effort over himself, he at last looked up, in appearance composed. "I came resolved," he said, "to bear all, suffer any insult for her sake—I came to conciliate if possible; and now, once and again, Mr. Formby, I ask you to consent, or, if not that, give her her liberty; give me hope, and I will make a name to win her with, better than any mere birth could bring me; but that too, I feel, I shall regain, and triumph over my enemy. I will win wealth—all—only give me hope; you see I implore now, for both our sakes."

"Hope to you—liberty to her?" laughed Juvenal, ironically, encouraged by Miles's softened tone. "I tell you she shall regain her liberty as Marmaduke Burton's wife—only then."

"You are resolved?—take time to consider." Miles's voice was low and emphatic.

"I need no consideration," answered the excited man; "my mind is made-up, and my word pledged!" He felt in himself that Miles was too noble for him to have personal violence to dread at his hands—he spoke undauntedly.

"Then, hear me!" said Miles, striding close to him, and whispering hoarsely from intense feeling; "I, too, pledge you my word, that if you and all the powers of earth leagued against it, Minnie Dalzell shall be mine! Now, look to it. I have nothing now to restrain my impulse. I have offered you every honourable proposition that man could offer; she loves me—this I know; and war let it be between us, and the victory and Minnie mine! So, look to it! You have driven me to my own resources—do not hereafter blame either her or me!"

"I defy you!—you can do nothing!" shouted Juvenal, rushing to the bell, intending to order him out by a servant. Miles made no further reply, but, striding to the door, went forth as if the meeting had been one in all good fellowship. As he quitted the house, Juvenal stood petrified, gazing after him. But the tall figure strode on, and never once turned or hesitated.

"He cannot—he cannot approach her!" said Juvenal confidently. "I'll watch—Gillett shall watch; and next week I'll take her to Lancashire. No one but Burton shall know the day, or my plans: and then we can indeed defy him!" And the self-confident man sat down to finish his letter to Burton, resolved to mention Tremenhere's visit to no one else, unless questioned about it. Days passed, and nothing had occurred to arouse a suspicion in his mind that Miles was at work. He was not a man to suspect the under-current of a stream, smooth on the surface. He was planning, and another was watching. Even yet, Miles could not find resolution to urge Minnie to an extreme step; they had not met since the night in Mrs. Gillett's room, but they had seen each other. The age of romance will never quite expire, even in this one of matter-of-fact: while Love exists, he will summon his own regal court around him, where pure hearts are in his keeping, and their love-knots not gilded. Juvenal never dreamed of watchings and wooings in those later hours of the night, when even his green tea failed to keep him wakeful; and, in those hours, Tremenhere stood beneath Minnie's window, and a cord from a trembling hand was their telegraphic wire to speed their communications from one to another. No one had seen Tremenhere since the day he quitted Juvenal, who became impressed with the idea that he had quitted in despair; but the cleverer general was quietly watching events from Farmer Weld's, who was too true to him to betray his concealment to any one. Even Mrs. Gillett thought he had left, and blessed her stars, and every thing else of lucky influence, which had induced him to quit, for now her mind was at rest. Only Burton suspected the truth; he knew Miles's disposition too well, and, consequently, strongly urged Juvenal to bring Minnie off, at a moment's notice, at night; and this the other resolved to do. Dorcas had a long interview with Skaife, and a certain want of energy in her character was gently censured by him, for her leaving Minnie so long without even a line: "What can I do?" she asked, irresolute; "my brother will not let me see her; I am waiting quietly till his strange humour pass away."

"And meanwhile you leave Miss Dalzell under, I must say, an unwarrantable oppression, which will prey on her proud spirit, unsupported, uncomforted. She will unquestionably think herself deserted by all, and the consequences may be fatal."

Skaife would not say more, or betray Miles even by a hint. Dorcas, acting upon this advice, wrote to Minnie, and Mrs. Gillett bore it—but the missive came too late. The girl's heart had brooded so long in silence, and supposed neglect, which, as far as Dorcas was concerned, had been want of decision, and that energy which might have brought Juvenal to reason, for her every thought had been her niece's; but she resigned herself too quietly to her brother's prohibition of visits. Dorcas said to herself, "I'll wait patiently—his humour will change—Minnie knows I love her." When, however, we are in trouble, a little assurance of affectionate watching is very comforting—silence often breeds doubt—it did in Minnie's case. She was on one hand persecuted by Juvenal and Sylvia, and unsupported on the other; 'tis then not to be wondered at, if she threw all her confidence and affection on the one who so well returned her love—Tremenhere; and her aunt's letter fell cold, uncared for, from her hand, and the resolution to act for herself grew only stronger. While she was in this state, Tremenhere was silently watching all. When men are very much in love, they are very like the fabled bucket, through which every drop of water passed again as soon as drawn from the well. Juvenal had a pet groom—his right-hand man in all things—his factotum, and he certainly merited his master's confidence; but—he fell in love! and a sort of Montague and Capulet affair it was with a dairymaid at, and poor relation of, Farmer Weld's. This stout wench was in the confidence of her master, and a firm adherent of Tremenhere's, so she listened to the wooing of her lover, not from any persuasion of the little blind god, but simply to know all that was passing at Gatestone. It is not from evil propensities that servants always speak of their master's affairs, but because persons not gifted with imagination, speak everyday facts; thus groom Thomas, like the bucket in question, drew all from the well of his master's heart, to moisten the greedy clay of woman's curiosity; and, in return, he got chaff which blew away before the winds, of service to no one. Thomas, too, was very wise in his own conceit, and said to himself, "Poor gal, she's so much in love with me, she can't keep nothing to herself!" and he posted off to his master with accounts of letters received from Tremenhere from town, and, while he carried off his winnowings, Sally trudged home with many a good oat-cake at his expense. This continued about a week; and every night, owl-like, Miles crept forth, and Minnie's soft voice whispered "Good-night, dearest!" as she let down, and drew up their respective letters.

One day Sally returned from an evening walk with Thomas, in a state of much agitation; she learned from him that Mr. Dalby, the lawyer, was always now closeted with his master, and that Thomas had been sent in solemn secresy to Harrogate, to order a chaise and posters for the following evening at eight; and his master had told him to be sure and say nothing to anybody about it, especially not to Miss Formby, or Miss Dorcas, as he was going to take off Miss Dalzell to Lancashire at a minute's notice; so all must be prepared, and he, Thomas, ready to go with them—that a word in the house would ruin all!

"Lor'!" ejaculated the really astonished Sally.

"Ain't it fine?" said the man; "and won't Miss be taken by surprise? as master says it's very wrong of her to fly in his face, as she does—in coorse, he must know best what's good for her; and nobody sha'n't know it from me, I'll take precious care of that!" and he rubbed his hands, and winked knowingly.

"And don't Miss Minnie suspect, think ye?"

"Not she, nor nobody; it's all been done main clever, I can tell you; and as the shay drives round to the front door, Master and Mr. Dalby goes up and brings her down, and we postesses two posts, that there mayn't be no row in this part, 'cause she might kick up a to-do at the station, and Mr. Dalby goes part ways on the dicky with me!"

"Does he?" said Sally, colouring at this treachery. "He's quite given up young Miss himself, then?"

"Oh, yes! from all I hears, and I'm pretty 'cute, he and the squire be all in all; it's to Miss Burton's young miss be goin'." This latter speech was uttered in a whisper.

"Ah!" ejaculated Sally, in thought.

"What be 'e thinkin' on?" asked Thomas, pressing the arm which reposed on his own. "I guess you be thinkin' there won't be all this fuss when we marries," etc., etc., etc. Here the amorous swain rushed off into a maze of love's intricacies, little interesting to the reader, or indeed to Sally, who took the earliest opportunity of finding the silken cord, and getting out of it, leaving the cautious Thomas watching, in the twilight, her buxom figure as she sped homewards. Red and excited she entered the farm kitchen, and, flying up the stairs, tapped at a door, and then bounced in. Tremenhere sat there, and not less than her own, was his agitation, when she unloaded her budget; he thanked his faithful messenger for her vigilance, and after a consultation with the homely farmer, who was summoned to the room, this latter started off for Harrogate, to discover if really the chaise had been ordered, as reported. With some little manoeuvring he found out, beyond a doubt, that it was a fact. What he then did—what they had mutually decided upon—will be shortly seen. To have carried off Minnie at that late hour would have been impracticable—How succeed? this was their first thought, but no posters could be obtained as relays; there would be no train to assist them so advanced in the night, for he could not see Minnie to convey the intelligence until nearly midnight. To fly, and be overtaken, were worse than all. Poor Miles paced his room in an agony of mind nothing can paint; until that supreme moment he did not know how dear Minnie was, all his energy seemed for a while crushed; he clenched his hands, and the thick, knotted veins swelled in his forehead, as the heaving breast sent the boiling blood to his brain. He cursed his own folly, his scruples for waiting so long, now all these had disappeared; present fears, future reflections on imprudence, all were cast aside: he only saw Minnie separated from himself, in Marmaduke's and her uncle's power, with Dalby to back them in villainy. He cared for nothing which might be said, he forgot all his mother's wrongs, from perhaps a want of strict prudence, (of error he never dreamed,) which had so long upheld him in a resolution to only win his wife before all the world, and by all its most rigid laws of prudence and right. He sat down at last, with his watch clutched in his hand, counting the weary moments till he could visit Gatestone. A cold sweat hung on his brow, as he thought some unforeseen event, impossible to conquer, might mar all, and thus he sat, in the bitter agony of a lone heart, which, though it may find kind, sympathizing friends, finds not one to comprehend all its suffering—not one to speak as it would. As the weary hours crept by, he was worn almost to woman's weakness; for at a moment when he needed all to support himself in calmness, Farmer Weld, or perhaps Sally, would enter his room, or the farmer's good dame, and by their well-meant, but quiet reasoning, nearly drive his warm temperament frantic; it was not only one fear he had, but dozens came crowding around him, for all was cast on one chance. He could not say—"If this fail—well, to-morrow."

No, there was no morrow for him if the project crumbled to earth. She would be away under coercion and watchings, and these doubled, if they discovered any attempt of his, even though it should prove abortive. In this fearful state, he at last quitted the farm. The night air revived him, and he felt calm as he stopped under Minnie's window; more especially when her little white hand drew aside the curtain, and she looked forth.