heaven know's what; nay, even for the title which
its possession carries with it. God bless the mark! She has got it
into her head that at some future day she will be Baroness de Werve;
and it is an illusion of hers to restore this old barrack. But her
only chance of doing it is to make a rich marriage. Formerly she had
chances enough amongst the rich bachelors, but she treated them all
slightingly; and now we see nobody in this lonely place."

"But you do not need her permission to sell the Castle?"

"Legally I do not require it; but there would be no living with her
if I sold it without her consent. Besides, she has a right to be
consulted. When she came of age I had to inform her that her mother's
fortune was nearly all spent. It was not my fault. Sir John Mordaunt
kept up a large establishment, and lived in English style, without
English money to support it; for he was only a second son, and his
captain's pay was not large. A little before his death he lost an
uncle, to whose property and title Francis would have succeeded if
she had been a boy. Shortly after this event my son-in-law died of
apoplexy, and I was left guardian to Francis. My evil fate pursued
me still, and being in want of a large sum of money to clear off a
debt, which would disgrace the family if not paid at once, Francis
generously offered me her whole fortune. I accepted it, as there was
no alternative, but only as a loan; and promised to leave the Werve
to her at my death."

"But Francis is your only grandchild--or stay, I have heard you had
a son, General; has he children?"

"My son is--dead," Von Zwenken answered, with a strange kind of
hesitancy in his voice. "He was never married so far as I know--at
least, he never asked my consent to a marriage; and if he has left
children I should not acknowledge them to be legitimate. In short,
you now understand why I cannot sell the Castle without Francis'
consent; after my death my creditors cannot take possession of it
without reckoning with her."

It struck me that Aunt Sophia had never foreseen this, and the mine
she had been digging for Von Zwenken would have blown up Francis in
the ruins if things had been allowed to take their course. I had, in
fact, at my side, a type of the most refined selfishness, profoundly
contemptible, recounting to me his shameful scheming under the cover
of a gentlemanlike exterior and a polite friendliness, which might
deceive the shrewdest man alive. Could I any