mean time, do you object to me on pecuniary
grounds?"

Driven back to his last entrenchment,
Obenreizer rose, and took a turn backwards and
forwards in the room. For the moment, he was
plainly at a loss what to say or do next.

"Before I answer that last question," he
said, after a little close consideration with
himself, "I beg leave to revert for a moment to
Miss Marguerite. You said something just now
which seemed to imply that she returns the
sentiment with which you are pleased to regard
her?"

"I have the inestimable happiness," said
Vendale, "of knowing that she loves me."

Obenreizer stood silent for a moment, with
the film over his eyes, and the faintly perceptible
beat becoming: visible again in his cheeks.

"If you will excuse me for a few minutes,"
he said, with ceremonious politeness, "I should
like to have the opportunity of speaking to my
niece. "With those words, he bowed, and
quitted the room.

Left by himself, Vendale's thoughts (as a
necessary result of the interview, thus far)
turned instinctively to the consideration of
Obenreizer's motives. He had put obstacles in
the way of the courtship; he was now putting
obstacles in the way of the marriage—a
marriage offering advantages which even his
ingenuity could not dispute. On the face of it, his
conduct was incomprehensible. What did it mean?

Seeking, under the surface, for the answer to
that question—and remembering that Obenreizer
was a man of about his own age; also, that
Marguerite was, strictly speaking, his half-niece
only—Vendale asked himself, with a lover's
ready jealousy, whether he had a rival to fear,
as well as a guardian to conciliate. The thought
just crossed his mind, and no more. The sense
of Marguerite's kiss still lingering on his cheek
reminded him gently that even the jealousy of a
moment was now a treason to her.

On reflection, it seemed most likely that a
personal motive of another kind might suggest
the true explanation of Obenreizer's conduct.
Marguerite's grace and beauty were precious
ornaments in that little household. They gave
it a special social attraction and a special social
importance. They armed Obenreizer with a
certain influence in reserve, which he could
always depend upon to make his house attractive,
and which he might always bring more or
less to bear on the forwarding of his own private
ends. Was he the sort of man to resign such
advantages as were here implied, without obtaining
the fullest possible compensation for the
loss? A connexion by marriage with Vendale
offered him solid advantages, beyond all doubt.
But there were hundreds of men in London
with far greater power and far wider influence
than Vendale possessed. Was it possible that
this man's ambition secretly looked higher than
the highest prospects that could be offered to
him by the alliance now proposed for his niece?
As the question passed through Vendale's mind,
the man himself reappeared—to answer it, or
not to answer it, as the event might prove.

A marked change was visible in Obenreizer
when he resumed his place. His manner was
less assured, and there were plain traces about
his mouth of recent agitation which had not
seen successfully composed. Had he said something,
referring either to Vendale or to himself,
which had roused Marguerite's spirit, and which
had placed him, for the first time, face to face
with a resolute assertion of his niece's will? It
might or might not be. This only was certain
—he looked like a man who had met with a
repulse.

"I have spoken to my niece," he began.
'I find, Mr. Vendale, that even your influence
has not entirely blinded her to the social
objections to your proposal."

"May I ask," returned Vendale, "if that is
the only result of your interview with Miss
Obenreizer?"

A momentary flash leapt out through the
Obenreizer film.

"You are master of the situation," he
answered, in a tone of sardonic submission. ''If
you insist on my admitting it, I do admit it in
those words. My niece's will and mine used
to be one, Mr. Vendale. You have come
between us, and her will is now yours. In my
country, we know when we are beaten, and we
submit with our best grace. I submit, with my
best grace, on certain conditions. Let us
revert to the statement of your pecuniary
position. I have an objection to you, my dear sir—
a most amazing, a most audacious objection,
from a man in my position to a man in yours."

"What is it?"

"You have honoured me by making a
proposal for my niece's hand. For the present (with
best thanks and respects), I beg to decline it." '

"Why?"

"Because you are not rich enough."

The objection, as the speaker had foreseen,
took Vendale completely by surprise. For the
moment he was speechless.

"Your income is fifteen hundred a year,"
pursued Obenreizer. "In my miserable country
I should fall on my knees before your income,
and say, 'What a princely fortune!' In wealthy
England, I sit as I am, and say, 'A modest
independence, dear sir; nothing more. Enough,
perhaps, for a wife in your own rank of life,
who has no social prejudices to conquer. Not
more than half enough for a wife who is a
meanly born foreigner, and who has all your
social prejudices against her.' Sir! if my niece
is ever to marry you, she will have what you
call uphill work of it in taking her place at
starting. Yes, yes; this is not your view,
but it remains, immovably remains, my view for
all that. For my niece's sake, I claim that this
uphill work shall be made as smooth as possible.
Whatever material advantages she can have to
help her, ought, in common justice, to be hers.
Now, tell me, Mr. Vendale, on your fifteen
hundred a year can your wife have a house in
a fashionable quarter, a footman to open her
door, a butler to wait at her table, and a
carriage and horses to drive about in? I see
the answer in your face—your face says, No.