"Yours are hard terms."

"I cannot argue the point with you, Heigham; such as they are, they
are my terms, founded on what I consider I owe to my daughter. Do you
accept them?"

"I cannot answer you off-hand. My happiness and Angela's are too
vitally concerned to allow me to do so. I must consult her first."

"Very good, I have no objection; but you must let me have your answer
by ten to-morrow."

Had Arthur only known his own strength and Philip's weakness--the
strength that honesty and honour ever have in the face of dishonour
and dishonesty--had he known the hesitating feebleness of Philip's
avarice-tossed mind, how easy it would have been for him to tear his
bald arguments to sheds, and, by the bare exhibition of unshaken
purpose, to confound and disallow his determinations--had he then and
there refused to agree to his ultimatum, so divided was Philip in his
mind and so shaken by superstitious fears, that he would have accepted
it as an omen, and have yielded to a decision of character that had no
real existence in himself. But he did not know; indeed, how could he
know? and he was, besides, too thorough a gentleman to allow himself
to suspect foul play. And so, too sad for talk, and oppressed by the
dread sense of coming separation from her whom he loved more dearly
than his life, he sought his room, there to think and pace, to pace
and think, until the stars had set.

When, wearied out at length, he threw himself into bed, it was only to
exchange bad for worse; for on such occasions sleep is worse than
wakefulness, it is so full of dreams, big with coming pain. Shortly
after dawn he got up again, and went into the garden and listened to
the birds singing their matin hymn. But he was in no mood for the
songs of birds, however sweet, and it was a positive relief to him
when old Jakes emerged, his cross face set in the gladness of the
morning, like a sullen cloud in the blue sky, and began to do
something to his favourite bed of cabbages. Not that Arthur was fond
of old Jakes; on the contrary, ever since the coffin-stand
conversation, which betrayed, he considered, a malevolent mind, he
detested him personally; but still he set a fancy value on him because
he was connected with the daily life of his betrothed.

And then at last out came Angela, having spied him from behind the
curtains of her window, clothed in the same white gown in which he had
first beheld her, and which he consequently considered the p