one, against your being admitted into the house."

They both turned on me together, and asked what I meant.

"You can't force your way in," I said. "You must do one of two things.
You must either give your names to the servant at the door, or you must
withhold your names. If you give them, you warn Nugent of what is
coming--and he is not the man to let you into the house under those
circumstances. If you take the other way, and keep your names concealed,
you present yourselves as strangers. Is Nugent likely to be accessible to
strangers? Would Lucilla, in her present position, consent to receive two
men who are unknown to her? Take my word for it--you will not only gain
nothing if you go to the house you will actually make it more difficult
to communicate with Lucilla than it is already."

There was a moment's silence. Both the men felt that my objections were
not easy to answer. Once more, Oscar took the lead.

"Do you propose to go?" he asked.

"No," I answered. "I propose to send a letter to Lucilla. A letter will
find its way to her."

This again was unanswerable. Oscar inquired next what the purport of the
letter was to be. I replied that I proposed to ask her to grant me a
private interview--nothing more.

"Suppose Lucilla refuses?" said Mr. Finch.

"She will not refuse," I rejoined. "There was a little misunderstanding
between us--I admit--at the time when I went abroad. I mean to refer
frankly to that misunderstanding as my reason for writing. I shall put
your daughter on her honor to give me an opportunity of setting things
right between us. If I summon Lucilla to do an act of justice, I believe
she will not refuse me."

(This, let me add in parenthesis, was the plan of action which I had
formed on the way to Sydenham. I had only waited to mention it, until I
heard what the two men proposed to do first.)

Oscar, standing hat in hand, glanced at Mr. Finch (also hat in hand)
keeping obstinately near the door. If he persisted in carrying out his
purpose of going alone to his cousin's house, the rector's face and
manner expressed, with the politest plainness, the intention of following
him. Oscar was placed between a clergyman and a woman, both equally
determined to have their own way. Under those circumstances, there was no
alternative--unless he wished to produce a public scandal--but to yield,
or appear to yield, to one or the other of us. He selected me.

"If you succeed in seeing her," he asked, "w