hind her in her
will."

"That's the first ill-natured thing I ever heard you say, Dick. When the
old lady dies, my sense of honor takes fright, and turns its back on
her will. It's a condition on my side, that every farthing of her money
shall be left to her relations."

"Don't you call yourself one of them?"

"What a question! Am I her relation because the laws of society force
a mock marriage on us? How can I make use of her money unless I am her
husband? and how can she make use of my title unless she is my wife? As
long as she lives I stand honestly by my side of the bargain. But when
she dies the transaction is at an end, and the surviving partner returns
to his five hundred a year."

Dick exhibited another surprising side to his character. The most
compliant of men now became as obstinate as the proverbial mule.

"All very well," he said, "but it doesn't explain why--if you must sell
yourself--you have sold yourself to an old lady. There are plenty of
young ones and pretty ones with fortunes to tempt you. It seems odd that
you haven't tried your luck with one of them."

"No, Dick. It would have been odd, and worse than odd, if I had tried my
luck with a young woman."

"I don't see that."

"You shall see it directly. If I marry an old woman for her money, I
have no occasion to be a hypocrite; we both know that our marriage is a
mere matter of form. But if I make a young woman my wife because I want
her money, and if that young woman happens to be worth a straw, I must
deceive her and disgrace myself by shamming love. That, my boy, you may
depend upon it, I will never do."

Dick's face suddenly brightened with a mingled expression of relief and
triumph.

"Ha! my mercenary friend," he burst out, "there's something mixed up in
this business which is worthier of you than anything I have heard yet.
Stop! I'm going to be clever for the first time in my life. A man who
talks of love as you do, must have felt love himself. Where is the young
one and the pretty one? And what has she done, poor dear, to be deserted
for an old woman? Good God! how you look at me! I have hurt your
feelings--I have been a greater fool than ever--I am more ashamed of
myself than words can say!"

Beaucourt stopped him there, gently and firmly.

"You have made a very natural mistake," he said. "There _was_ a young
lady. She has refused me--absolutely refused me. There is no more love
in my life. It's a dark life and an empty life f