without, in some shape or form, giving
a _quid pro quo_. Now Philip's _quid_ was to rid his house and the
neighbourhood of Arthur Heigham, his guest and his daughter's lover.
It was not a task he liked, but the unearned cheque in his breeches-
pocket continually reminded him of the obligation it entailed.

When Arthur came to smoke his pipe with his host that evening, the
latter looked so gloomy and depressed, that he wondered to himself if
he was going to be treated to a repetition of the shadow scene, little
guessing that there was something much more personally unpleasant
before him.

"Heigham," Philip said, suddenly, and looking studiously in the other
direction, "I want to speak to you. I have been thinking over our
conversation of about a week ago on the subject of your engagement to
Angela, and have now come to a final determination. I may say at once
that I approve of you in every way" (here his hearer's heart bounded
with delight), "but, under all the circumstances, I don't think that I
should be right in sanctioning an immediate engagement. You are not
sufficiently sure of each other for that. I may seem old-fashioned,
but I am a great believer in the virtue of constancy, and I'm anxious,
in your own interests, to put yours and Angela's to the test. The
terms that I can offer you are these. You must leave here to-morrow,
and must give me your word of honour as a gentleman--which I know will
be the most effectual guarantee that I can take from you--that you
will not for the space of a year either attempt to see Angela again,
or to hold any written communication with her, or anybody in any way
connected with her. The year ended, you can return, and, should you
both still be of the same mind, you can then marry her as soon as you
like. If you decline to accede to these terms--which I believe to be
to your mutual ultimate advantage--I must refuse my consent to the
engagement altogether."

A silence followed this speech. The match that Arthur had lit before
Philip began, burnt itself out between his fingers without his
appearing to suffer any particular inconvenience, and now his pipe
fell with a crash into the grate, and broke into fragments--a fit
symbol of the blow dealt to his hopes. For some moments he was so
completely overwhelmed at the idea of losing Angela for a whole long
year, losing her as completely as though she were dead, that he could
not answer. At length he found his voice, and said, hoarsely: