CHAPTER XXXIII.
"WHAT MUST BE SHALL BE." Ellen Carley waited in the little parlour, dimly lighted by one candle.
The fire had very nearly gone out, and she had some difficulty in brightening it a little.

She waited very patiently, wondering what her father could have to say to her, and not anticipating much pleasure from the interview.

He was going to talk about Stephen Whitelaw and his hateful money perhaps.

But let him say what he would, she was prepared to hold her own firmly, determined to provoke him by no open opposition, unless matters came to an extremity, and then to let him see at once and for ever that her resolution was fixed, and that it was useless to persecute her.
"If I have to go out of this house to-night, I will not flinch," she said to herself.
She had some time to wait.

It had been past midnight when they came home, and it was a quarter to one when William Carley came into the parlour.