wherefore had he, the heir to large estates, done this? He had dared to love without his father's leave, and had refused the
offer his father made him of marrying a young lady whom he had chosen
for him, but whom he could not love. It was as much a matter of surprise to the father that the son should
refuse, as it was to the son that his father should contemplate such a
match. "Henry," said the father, "you have been thought of by me, I have made
proposals for marrying you to the daughter of our neighbour, Sir Arthur
Onslow." "Indeed, father!" "Yes; I wish you to go there with me to see the young lady." "In the character of a suitor?" "Yes," replied the father, "certainly; it's high time you were settled." "Indeed, I would rather not go, father; I have no intention of marrying
just yet. I do not desire to do so." This was an opposition that Mr. Bradley had not expected from his son,
and which his imperious temper could ill brook, and with a darkened brow
he said,--

"It is not much, Henry, that I trespass upon your obedience; but when I
do so, I expect that you will obey me." "But, father, this matter affects me for my whole life." "That is why I have deliberated so long and carefully over it." "But it is not unreasonable that I should have a voice in the affair,
father, since it may render me miserable." "You shall have a voice." "Then I say no to the whole regulation," said Henry, decisively. "If you do so you forfeit my protection, much more favour; but you had
better consider over what you have said. Forget it, and come with me." "I cannot." "You will not?" "No, father; I cannot do as you wish me; my mind is fully made up upon
that matter." [Illustration]

"And so is mine. You either do as I would have you, or you leave the
house, and seek your own living, and you are a beggar." "I should prefer being such," said Henry, "than to marry any young lady,
and be unable to love her." "That is not required." "No! I am astonished! Not necessary to love the woman you marry!" "Not at all; if you act justly towards her she ought to be grateful; and
it is all that is requisite in the marriage state. Gratitude will beget
love, and love in one begets love in the other." "I will not argue with you, father, upon the matter. You are a better
judge than I; you have had more experience." "I have." "And it would be useless to speak upon the subject; but of this I can
speak--my own resolve--that I will not marry the lady in question." The son had all the stern resolve of the father, but he had also very
good reasons for what he did. He loved, and was beloved in return; and
hence he would not break his faith with her whom he loved. To have explained this to his father would have been to gain nothing
except an accession of anger, and he would have made a new demand upon
his (the son's) obedience, by ordering him to discard from his bosom the
image that was there indelibly engraven. "You will not marry her whom I have chosen for your bride?" "I cannot." "Do not talk to me of can and can't, when I speak of will and wont. It
Is useless to disguise the fact. You have your free will in the matter. I shall take no answer but yes or no." "Then, no, father." "Good, sir; and now we are strangers." With that Mr. Bradley turned abruptly from his son, and left him to
himself. It was the first time they had any words of difference together, and it
was sudden and soon terminated. Henry Bradley was indignant at what had happened; he did not think his
father would have acted as he had done in this instance; but he was too
much interested in the fate of another to hesitate for a moment. Then
came the consideration as to what he should do, now that he had arrived
at such a climax. His first thoughts turned to his mother and sister. He could not leave
the house without bidding them good-bye. He determined to see his
mother, for his father had left the Hall upon a visit. Mrs. Bradley and Emma were alone when he entered their apartment, and to
them he related all that had passed between himself and father. They besought him to stay, to remain there, or at least in the
neighbourhood; but he was resolved to quit the place altogether for a
time, as he could do nothing there, and he might chance to do something
elsewhere. Upon this, they got together all the money and such jewels as they could
spare, which in all amounted to a considerable sum; then taking an
affectionate leave of his mother and sister, Henry left the Hall--not
before he had taken a long and affectionate farewell of one other who
lived within those walls. This was no other than the raven-eyed maiden who sat by the fire side,
and listened attentively to the conversation that was going on. She was
his love--she, a poor cousin. For her sake he had braved all his
father's anger, and attempted to seek his fortune abroad. This done, he quietly left the Hall, without giving any one any
intimation of where he was going. Old Mr. Bradley, when he had said so much to his son, was highly
incensed at what he deemed his obstinacy; and he thought the threat
hanging over him would have had a good effect; but he was amazed when he
discovered that Henry had indeed left the Hall, and he knew not whither. For some time he comforted himself with the assurance that he would, he
must return, but, alas! he came not, and this was the second anniversary
of that melancholy day, which no one more repented of and grieved for,
than did poor Mr. Bradley. "Surely, surely he will return, or let us know where he is," he said;
"he cannot be in need, else he would have written to us for aid." "No, no," said Mrs. Bradley; "it is, I fear, because he has not written,
that he is in want; he would never write if he was in poverty, lest he
should cause us unhappiness at his fate. Were he doing well, we should
hear of it, for he would be proud of the result of his own unaided
exertions." "Well, well," said Mr. Bradley, "I can say no more; if I was hasty, so
was he; but it is passed. I would forgive all the past, if I could but
see him once again--once again!" "How the wind howls," added the aged man; "and it's getting worse and
worse." "Yes, and the snow is coming down now in style," said one of the
servants, who brought in some fresh logs which were piled up on the
fire, and he shook the white flakes off his clothes. "It will be a heavy fall before morning," said one of the men. "Yes, it has been gathering for some days; it will be much warmer than
it has been when it is all down." "So it will--so it will." At that moment there was a knocking at the gate, and the dogs burst into
a dreadful uproar from their kennels. "Go, Robert," said Mr. Bradley, "and see who it is that knocks such a
night as this; it is not fit or safe that a dog should be out in it." The man went out, and shortly returned, saying,--

"So please you, sir, there is a traveller that has missed his way, and
desires to know if he can obtain shelter here, or if any one can be
found to guide him to the nearest inn."