lared in a stern and
inquisitorial manner over his spectacles at the young man.

"I have nothing to say," was the answer, given in a low and dejected
voice.

Mr. Miller sprang to his feet and hurriedly gathered up his papers.

"Then, sir," he said, furiously, "I shall wish you good afternoon; and
let me assure you, most emphatically, that you must relinquish all claim
to my daughter's hand. I will never consent to her union with a man whose
private life will not bear investigation; and should she disobey me in
this matter, she shall never have one single shilling of my money."

There was a moment's silence. Mr. Miller was buttoning-up his coat with
the air of a man who buttons up his heart within it at the same time. He
regarded the young man fiercely, and yet there was a lingering
wistfulness, too, in his gaze. He would have given a good deal to hear,
from his lips, a satisfactory explanation of the circumstances which told
so suspiciously against him. He liked the young barrister personally, and
he was fond enough of his daughter to wish that she might be happy in her
own way. He spoke one word more to the young man.

"Have you nothing to say; Mr. Pryme?"

Herbert shook his head, with his eyes gloomily downcast.

"I can only tell you, sir, that you are mistaken in what you imagine. If
you will not believe my word, I can say nothing more."

"And what of _these_, Mr. Pryme--what of _these_?" pointing furiously
downwards to Beatrice's property.

"I cannot explain it any further to you, Mr. Miller. I can only ask you
to believe me."

"Then, I do not believe you, sir--I do not believe you. Would any man in
his senses believe that you haven't got a woman hidden in the next room?
Do you suppose I'm a fool? I have the honour of wishing you good day,
sir, and I am sorry I ever took the trouble of calling upon you. It is,
of course, unnecessary for you to trouble yourself concerning my case, in
these altered circumstances, Mr. Pryme; I beg to decline the benefit of
your legal assistance. Good afternoon."

The door closed upon him, and the sound of his retreating footsteps
echoed noisily down the stairs. Herbert sank into a chair and covered his
face with his hands. So lately hope and fortune seemed to have smiled
upon him for one short, blissful moment, only to withdraw the sunshine
of their faces again from him more completely, and to leave him more
utterly in the dark than ever. Was ever man so unfortunate, and so