n."

May looked irresolutely at her companion.

"I ought not, perhaps, to tell you," she said. "I ought not to tell
anybody. But, then, well, you are Harry Fielden, and I have known you
all my life. If you didn't care for me quite as much as you do, if I had
not cared for you--but, there, we need not go into that. It is my father
who has worried me. It is extraordinary what a change has come over him
lately. He used to be so kind to me, to let me do as I liked, and even
when we were so poor that we didn't know where to turn for money he was
always happy and cheerful. Why, a few months ago he would have laughed
at the idea of my marrying a man like Mr. Copley. Now he is almost eager
for it."

Fielden made no reply for a moment. A wave of indignation came over him.
He caught his lip between his teeth and bit it fiercely. A year or two
ago he would have smiled at the suggestion that Sir George would
sanction a match between his daughter and a man like Copley. But during
the hard and bitter months of his wanderings he had learnt some amount
of cynical wisdom. He was no longer inclined, as he had been in the old
days, to take every man at his face valuation. And, no doubt, when the
pinch came, Sir George was just like the rest. He would speak loudly
enough of his willingness to give up the old house and live in humble
lodgings rather than have any slur cast upon his honour. But it would be
different when this pretty theory came to be put to the test. Fielden
forgot all about the racecourse. He heard nothing of the shouting crowd.
The horses streaming to the post conveyed nothing to his eye.

"I want you to be candid with me," he said. "Is Sir George putting
pressure upon you to marry that blackguard?"

There was something so vehement in Fielden's speech that May looked at
him in astonishment.

"Surely you are going too far," she said. "Mr. Copley is not a
gentleman, of course----"

"I tell you, he is a scoundrel," Fielden interrupted. "Believe me, May,
I would not have spoken unless I had been bound to. That man is not fit
to go into any respectable house. I cannot say more than that at
present, because the secret is not altogether mine. But this much I tell
you: Had there been no such person as Raymond Copley I should be a rich
man at the present moment. I know that, but for the merest accident,
there would be blood on that man's hands. You must not marry him, May.
You must not give him the slightest encouragement.