hould make your lordship acquainted with the fact. He assevered there
was nothing dishonest between them, but, having deceived me once, how
was I to trust him again!"

"How indeed! the young blackguard!" said his lordship, casting a fierce
glance at his son.

"Allow me to remark," said Forgue, with comparative coolness, "that I
deceived no one. What I promised was, that the affair should not go on:
it did not; from that moment it assumed a different and serious aspect.
I now intend to marry the girl."

"I tell you, Forgue, if you do I will disown you."

Forgue smiled an impertinent smile and held his peace: the threat had
for him no terror.

"I shall be the better able," continued his lordship, "to provide
suitably for Davie; he is what a son ought to be! But hear me, Forgue:
you must be aware that, if I left you all I had, it would be beggary
for one handicapped with a title. You may think my anger unreasonable,
but it comes solely of anxiety on your account. Nothing but a suitable
marriage--the most suitable of all is within your arm's length--can
save you from the life of a moneyless peer--the most pitiable object on
the face of the earth. Were it possible to ignore your rank, you have
no profession, no trade even, in these trade-loving times, to fall back
upon. Except you marry as I please, you will have nothing from me but
the contempt of a title without a farthing to keep it decent. You
threaten to leave the house--can you pay for a railway-ticket?"

Forgue was silent for a moment.

"My lord," he said, "I have given my word to the girl: would you have
me disgrace your name by breaking it?"

"Tut! tut! there are words and words! What obligation can there be in
the rash promises of an unworthy love! Still less are they binding
where the man is not his own master! You are under a bond to your
family, under a bond to society, under a bond to your country. Marry
this girl, and you will be an outcast; marry as I would have you, and
no one will think the worse of you for a foolish vow in your boyhood.
Bah! the merest rumour of it will never rise into the serene air of
your position."

"And let the girl go and break her heart!" said Forgue, with look black
as death.

"You need fear no such catastrophe! You are no such marvel among men
that a kitchen-wench will break her heart for you. She will be sorry
for herself, no doubt; but it will be nothing more than she expected,
and will only confirm her opinion of y