ly that of a friend; let it be understood.'

'Precisely. You didn't say whether the girls have been writing to you?'

'No, no, no! Not a line. I have exchanged letters only with their
mother. Anything else would have been indiscreet. I shall be glad to
see them, but my old schemes are things of the past. There is not the
faintest probability that Bella has retained any recollection of me at
all.'

'I daresay not,' assented Earwaker.

'You think so? Very well; I have acted wisely. Bella is still a child,
you know--compared with a man of my age. She is seventeen and a few
months; quite a child! Miss Maccabe is just one-and-twenty; the proper
age. When we are married, I think I shall bring her to Europe for a
year or two. Her education needs that; she will be delighted to see the
old countries.'

'Have you her portrait?'

'Oh no! Things haven't got so far as that. What a hasty fellow you are,
Earwaker! I told you distinctly'----

He talked till after midnight, and at leave-taking apologised profusely
for wasting his friend's valuable time.

Earwaker awaited with some apprehension the result of Malkin's visit to
Wrotham. But the report of what took place on that occasion was
surprisingly commonplace. Weeks passed, and Malkin seldom showed
himself at Staple Inn; when he did so, his talk was exclusively of Miss
Maccabe; all he could be got to say of the young ladies at Wrotham was,
'Nice girls; very nice girls. I hope they'll marry well.' Two months
had gone by, and already the journalist had heard by letter of his
friend's intention to return to New Zealand, when, on coming home late
one night, he found Malkin sitting on the steps.

'Earwaker, I have something very serious to tell you. Give me just a
quarter of an hour.'

What calamity did this tone portend? The eccentric man seated himself
with slow movement. Seen by a good light, his face was not gloomy, but
very grave.

'Listen to me, old friend,' he began, sliding forward to the edge of
his chair. 'You remember I told you that my relations with the Maccabe
family had been marked throughout with extreme discretion.'

'You impressed that upon me.'

'Good! I have never made love to Miss Maccabe, and I doubt whether she
has ever thought of me as a possible husband.'

'Well?'

'Don't be impatient. I want you to grasp the fact. It is important,
because--I am going to marry Bella Jacox.'

'You don't say so?'

'Why not?' cried Malkin, suddenly passing to a