t to produce the
right effect on Sir Joseph's mind if Sir Joseph proved obdurate when the
secret of the marriage was revealed. Launce wrote a line directing the
stoppage of the proceedings at the point which they had now reached.
"Here is a reason for her not marrying Turlington," he said to himself,
as he placed the papers under lock and key. "And if she doesn't marry
Turlington," he added, with a lover's logic, "why shouldn't she marry
Me?"

EIGHTH SCENE.

The Library.

The next day Sir Joseph Graybrooke, Sir Joseph's lawyer, Mr. Dicas
(highly respectable and immensely rich), and Richard Turlington were
assembled in the library at Muswell Hill, to discuss the question of
Natalie's marriage settlement.

After the usual preliminary phrases had been exchanged, Sir Joseph
showed some hesitation in openly approaching the question which the
little party of three had met to debate. He avoided his lawyer's eye;
and he looked at Turlington rather uneasily.

"Richard," he began at last, "when I spoke to you about your marriage,
on board the yacht, I said I would give my daughter--" Either his
courage or his breath failed him at that point. He was obliged to wait a
moment before he could go on.

"I said I would give my daughter half my fortune on her marriage," he
resumed. "Forgive me, Richard. I can't do it!"

Mr. Dicas, waiting for his instructions, laid down his pen and looked at
Sir Joseph's son-in-law elect. What would Mr. Turlington say?

He said nothing. Sitting opposite the window, he rose when Sir Joseph
spoke, and placed himself at the other side of the table, with his back
to the light.

"My eyes are weak this morning," he said, in an unnaturally low tone of
voice. "The light hurts them."

He could find no more plausible excuse than that for concealing his face
in shadow from the scrutiny of the two men on either side of him. The
continuous moral irritation of his unhappy courtship--a courtship which
had never advanced beyond the frigid familiarity of kissing Natalie's
hand in the presence of others--had physically deteriorated him. Even
_his_ hardy nerves began to feel the long strain of suspicion that
had been laid unremittingly on them for weeks past. His power of
self-control--he knew it himself--was not to be relied on. He could hide
his face: he could no longer command it.

"Did you hear what I said, Richard?"

"I heard. Go on."

Sir Joseph proceeded, gathering confidence as he advanced.