“I am afraid there will be nothing to settle.”

“What do you mean;—­that you disapprove of it?”

“By no means,—­personally.  I should approve of it very strongly.  But that has nothing to do with the question.”

“Yes, it has.  I beg your pardon, but it must have, and should have a great deal to do with it.  Of course, I am not saying that anybody should now ever be compelled to marry anybody.”

“I hope not.”

“I never said that they ought, and never thought so.  But I do think that the wishes of all her family should have very great weight with a girl that has been well brought up.”

“I don’t know whether Bell has been well brought up; but in such a matter as this nobody’s wishes would weigh a feather with her; and, indeed, I could not take upon myself even to express a wish.  To you I can say that I should have been very happy if she could have regarded her cousin as you wish her to do.”

“You mean that you are afraid to tell her so?”

“I am afraid to do what I think is wrong, if you mean that.”

“I don’t think it would be wrong, and therefore I shall speak to her myself.”

“You must do as you like about that, Mr Dale; I can’t prevent you.  I shall think you wrong to harass her on such a matter, and I fear also that her answer will not be satisfactory to you.  If you choose to tell her your opinion, you must do so.  Of course I shall think you wrong, that’s all.”

Mrs Dale’s voice as she said this was stern enough, and so was her countenance.  She could not forbid the uncle to speak his mind to his niece, but she especially disliked the idea of any interference with her daughter.  The squire got up and walked about the room, trying to compose himself that he might answer her rationally, but without anger.

“May I go now?” said Mrs Dale.

“May you go?  Of course you may go if you like it.  If you think that I am intruding upon you in speaking to you of the welfare of your two girls, whom I endeavour to regard as my own daughters,—­except in this, that I know they have never been taught to love me,—­if you think that it is an interference on my part to show anxiety for their welfare, of course you may go.”

“I did not mean to say anything to hurt you, Mr Dale.”

“Hurt me!  What does it signify whether I am hurt or not?  I have no children of my own, and of course my only business in life is to provide for my nephews and nieces.  I am an old fool if I expect that they are to love me in return, and if I venture to express a wish I am interfering and doing wrong!  It is hard,—­very hard.  I know well that they have been brought up to dislike me, and yet I am endeavouring to do my duty by them.”

“Mr Dale, that accusation has not been deserved.  They have not been brought up to dislike you.  I believe that they have both loved and respected you as their uncle; but such love and respect will not give you a right to dispose of their hands.”