ty of a shabby
trick even for this. Can't you see that the very fact that I care for
you so much, makes it all the more impossible for me to do anything
shady in your name?"

"Bosh!" rudely exclaimed Elisabeth.

"As for the work-people," he went on, ignoring her interruption, "of
course no one will ever do as much for them as you are doing. But that
isn't the question. The fact that one man would make a better use of
money than another wouldn't justify me in robbing Peter to increase
Paul's munificence. Now would it?"

"That's perfectly different. It is all right for you to go on
advertising for that Farringdon man in agony columns, and I shouldn't be
so silly as to make a fuss about giving up the money if he turned up.
You know that well enough. But it does seem to me to be
over-conscientious and hyper-disagreeable on your part to go off to
Australia--just when I am so lonely and want you so much--in search of
the man who is to turn me out of my kingdom and reign in my stead. I
can't think how you can want to do such a thing!" Elisabeth was fighting
desperately hard; the full power of her strong will was bent upon making
Christopher do what she wished and stay with her in England; not only
because she needed him, but because she felt that this was a Hastings or
Waterloo between them, and that if she lost this battle, her ancient
supremacy was gone forever.

"I don't want to go and do it, heaven knows! I hate and loathe doing
anything which you don't wish me to do. But there is no question of
wanting in the matter, as far as I can see. It is a simple question
between right and wrong--between honour and dishonour--and so I really
have no alternative."

"Then you have made up your mind to go out to Australia and turn up
every stone in order to find this George Farringdon's son?"

"I don't see how I can help it."

"And you don't care what becomes of me?"

"More than I care for anything else in the world, Elisabeth. Need you
ask?"

For one wild moment Christopher felt that he must tell Elisabeth how
passionately he would woo her, should she lose her fortune; and how he
would spend his life and his income in trying to make her happy, should
George Farringdon's son be found and she cease to be one of the greatest
heiresses in the Midlands. But he held himself back by the bitter
knowledge of how cruelly appearances were against him. He had made up
his mind to do the right thing at all costs; at least, he had not
e