ucille.

"Because he is a pig-headed fool--as his father was before him. It is
all his father's fault, for placing him in such an impossible
position."

"I do not understand," said Lucille.

John Turner crossed his legs with a grunt of obesity.

"It is nevertheless simple, Mademoiselle," he said; "father and son
quarrelled because old Howard, who was as obstinate as his son, made
up his mind that Dick should marry Isabella Gayerson. Plenty of money,
adjoining estates, the old story of misery with many servants. Dick,
being his father's son, at once determined that he would do no such
thing, and there was a row royal. Dick went off to Paris, in debt and
heedless of the old man's threat to cut him off with a shilling. He
had never cared for Isabella, and was not going to sell his liberty
for the sake of a ring fence. His own words, Mademoiselle. At Paris
sundry things happened to him, of which you probably know more than
I."

He glanced up at Lucille, who was picking blades of grass from the
embankment against which he leant. Her eyelids flickered, but she made
no reply.

"Then," went on John Turner, "his father died suddenly, and it
transpired that the hot-headed old fool had made one of those wills
which hot-headed old fools make for the special delectation of
novelists and lawyers. He had left Dick penniless, unless he consented
to marry Isabella. When Dick told your father he was poor, he was well
within the limits of the truth, although he did it, as I understand,
to gain his own ends. When he told you a different story, he merely
assumed that this quarrel, like others, would end in a reconciliation.
He felt remorseful that he had practised a mild deception on your
father, and wished to clear his conscience. Death intervened at this
moment, and placed our young friend in the uncomfortable position of
having told untruths all round. You probably know better than I do,
Mademoiselle, why he got himself into this hobble."

But Lucille would make no such admission.

"But you ignore Isabella," she cried, impatiently, "you and Mr.
Howard."

"She will not allow us to do that, my dear young lady."

"Is she to wait with folded hands until Mr. Howard decides whether he
is inclined to marry her or not?"

"There is no waiting in the question," said John Turner. "Dick made up
his mind long ago, in the lifetime of his father, and Isabella must be
aware of his decision. Besides, Mademoiselle, you can judge for
yourse