"I have a conscience, my dear, on this matter," said an old gentleman to a young lady, as the two were sitting in the breakfast parlour of a country house which looked down from the cliffs over the sea on the coast of Carmarthenshire. "And so have I, Uncle Indefer; and as my conscience is backed by my inclination, whereas yours is not-" "You think that I shall give way?" "I did not mean that." "What then?" "If I could only make you understand how very strong is my inclination, or disinclination-how impossible to be conquered, then-" "What next?" "Then you would know that I could never give way, as you call it, and you would go to work with your own conscience to see whether it be imperative with you or not. You may be sure of this, -I shall never say a word to you in opposition to your conscience. If there be a word to be spoken it must come from yourself." There was a long pause in the conversation, a silence for an hour, during which the girl went in and out of the room and settled herself down at her work. Then the old man went back abruptly to the subject they had discussed. "I shall obey my conscience." "You ought to do so, Uncle Indefer.