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

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

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

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

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

He said nothing. Sitting opposite the window, he rose when SirJoseph 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 lowtone of voice. "The light hurts them."

He could find no more plausible excuse than that for concealinghis face in shadow from the scrutiny of the two men on eitherside of him. The continuous moral irritation of his unhappycourtship--a courtship which had never advanced beyond the frigidfamiliarity of kissing Natalie's hand in the presence of others--had physically deteriorated him. Even _his_ hardy nerves began tofeel the long strain of suspicion that had been laidunremittingly on them for weeks past. His power of self-control--he knew it himself--was not to be relied on. He could hide hisface: 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.

"Half my fortune!" he repeated. "It's parting with half my life;it's saying good-by forever to my dearest friend! My money hasbeen such a comfort to me, Richard; such a pleasant occupationfor my mind. I know no reading so interesting and so instructiveas the reading of one's Banker's Book. To watch the outgoings onone side," said Sir Joseph, with a gentle and pathetic solemnity,"and the incomings on the other--the sad lessening of the balanceat one time, and the cheering and delightful growth of it atanother--what absorbing reading! The best novel that ever waswritten isn't to be mentioned in a breath with it. I can not,Richard, I really can _not_, see my nice round balance shrink upto half the figure that I have been used to for a lifetime. Itmay be weak of me," proceeded Sir Joseph, evidently feeling thatit was not weak of him at all, "but we all have our tender place,and my Banker's Book is mine. Besides, it isn't as if you wantedit. If you wanted it, of course--but you don't want it. You are arich man; you are marrying my dear Natalie for love, not formoney. You and she and my grandchildren will have it all at mydeath. It _can_ make no difference to you to wait a few yearstill the old man's chair at the fireside is empty. Will you saythe fourth part, Richard, instead of the half? Twenty thousand,"pleaded Sir Joseph, piteously. "I can bear twenty thousand off.For God's sake don't ask me for more!"

The lips of the lawyer twisted themselves sourly into an ironicalsmile. He was quite as fond of his money as Sir Joseph. He oughtto have felt for his client; but rich men have no sympathy withone another. Mr. Dicas openly despised Sir Joseph.

There was a pause. The robin-redbreasts in the shrubbery outsidemust have had prodigious balances at their bankers; they hoppedup on the window-sill so fearlessly; they looked in with solittle respect at the two rich men.

"Don't keep me in suspense, Richard," proceeded Sir Joseph."Speak out. Is it yes or no?"

Turlington struck his hand excitedly on the table, and burst outon a sudden with the answer which had been so strangely delayed.

"Twenty thousand with all my heart!" he said. "On this condition,Graybrooke, that every farthing of it is settled on Natalie, andon her children after her. Not a half-penny to me!" he criedmagnanimously, in his brassiest tones. "Not a half- penny to me!"

Let no man say the rich are heartless. Sir Joseph seized hisson-in-law's hand in silence, and burst into tears.

Mr. Dicas, habitually a silent man, uttered the first two wordsthat had escaped him since the business began. "Highlycreditable," he said, and took a note of his instructions on thespot.

From that point the business of the settlement flowed smoothly onto its destined end. Sir Joseph explained his views at thefullest length, and the lawyer's pen kept pace with him.Turlington, remaining in his place at the table, restrictedhimself to a purely passive part in the proceedings. He answeredbriefly when it was absolutely necessary to speak, and he agreedwith the two elders in everything. A man has no attention toplace at the disposal of other people when he stands at a crisisin his life. Turlington stood at that crisis, at the tryingmoment when Sir Joseph's unexpected proposal pressed instantlyfor a reply. Two merciless alternatives confronted him. Either hemust repay the borrowed forty thousand pounds on the day whenrepayment was due, or he must ask Bulpit Brothers to grant him anextension of time, and so inevitably provoke an examination intothe fraudulent security deposited with the firm, which could endin but one way. His last, literally his last chance, after SirJoseph had diminished the promised dowry by one half, was toadopt the high-minded tone which became his position, and toconceal the truth until he could reveal it to his father-in-lawin the privileged character of Natalie's husband. "I owe fortythousand pounds, sir, in a fortnight's time, and I have not got afarthing of my own. Pay for me, or you will see your son-in-law's name in the Bankrupt's List." For his daughter's sake--whocould doubt it?--Sir Joseph would produce the money. The onething needful was to be married in time. If either by accident ortreachery Sir Joseph was led into deferring the appointed day, byso much as a fortnight only, the fatal "call" would come, and thefirm of Pizzituti, Turlington & Branca would appear in theGazette.

So he reasoned, standing on the brink of the terrible discoverywhich was soon to reveal to him that Natalie was the wife ofanother man.

"Richard!"

"Mr. Turlington!"

He started, and roused his attention to present things. SirJoseph on one side, and the lawyer on the other, were bothappealing to him, and both regarding him with looks of amazement.

"Have you done with the settlement?" he asked.

"My dear Richard, we have done with it long since, " replied SirJoseph. "Have you really not heard what I have been saying forthe last quarter of an hour to good Mr. Dicas here? What _can_you have been thinking of?"

Turlington did not attempt to answer the question. "Am Iinterested," he asked, "in what you have been saying to Mr.Dicas?"

"You shall judge for yourself," answered Sir Joseph,mysteriously; "I have been giving Mr. Dicas his instructions formaking my Will. I wish the Will and the Marriage-Settlement to beexecuted at the same time. Read the instructions, Mr. Dicas."

Sir Joseph's contemplated Will proved to have two merits--it wassimple and it was short. Excepting one or two trifling legaciesto distant relatives, he had no one to think of (Miss Laviniabeing already provided for) but his daughter and the children whomight be born of her marriage. In its various provisions, madewith these two main objects in view, the Will followed theprecedents established in such cases. It differed in no importantrespect from the tens of thousands of other wills made undersimilar circumstances. Sir Joseph's motive in claiming specialattention for it still remained unexplained, when Mr. Dicasreached the clause devoted to the appointment of executors andtrustees; and announced that this portion of the document wasleft in blank.

"Sir Joseph Graybrooke, are you prepared to name the persons whomyou appoint?" asked the lawyer.

Sir Joseph rose, apparently for the purpose of giving specialimportance to the terms in which he answered his lawyer'squestion.

"I appoint," he said, "as sole executor and trustee--RichardTurlington."

It was no easy matter to astonish Mr. Dicas. Sir Joseph's replyabsolutely confounded him. He looked across the table at hisclient and delivered himself on this special occasion of as manyas three words.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

Sir Joseph's healthy complexion slightly reddened. "I never wasin more complete possession of myself, Mr. Dicas, than at thismoment."

Mr. Dicas was not to be silenced in that way.

"Are you aware of what you do," persisted the lawyer, "if youappoint Mr. Turlington as sole executor and trustee? You put itin the power of your daughter's husband, sir, to make away withevery farthing of your money after your death."

Turlington had hitherto listened with an appearance of interestin the proceedings, which he assumed as an act of politeness. Tohis view, the future was limited to the date at which BulpitBrothers had a right to claim the repayment of their loan. TheWill was a matter of no earthly importance to him, by comparisonwith the infinitely superior interest of the Marriage. It wasonly when the lawyer's brutally plain language forced hisattention to it that the question of his pecuniary interest inhis father-in-law's death assumed its fit position in his mind.

_His_ color rose; and _he_ too showed that he was offended bywhat Mr. Dicas had just said.

"Not a word, Richard! Let me speak for you as well as formyself," said Sir Joseph. "For seven years past," he continued,turning to the lawyer, "I have been accustomed to place the mostunlimited trust in Richard Turlington. His disinterested advicehas enabled me largely to increase my income, without placing afarthing of the principal in jeopardy. On more than one occasion,I have entreated him to make use of my money in his business. Hehas invariably refused to do so. Even his bitterest enemies, sir,have been obliged to acknowledge that my interests were safe whencommitted to his care. Am I to begin distrusting him, now that Iam about to give him my daughter in marriage? Am I to leave it onrecord that I doubt him for the first time--when my Will isopened after my death? No! I can confide the management of thefortune which my child will inherit after me to no more competentor more honorable hands than the hands of the man who is to marryher. I maintain my appointment, Mr. Dicas! I persist in placingthe whole responsibility under my Will in my son-in-law's care."

Turlington attempted to speak. The lawyer attempted to speak. SirJoseph--with a certain simple dignity which had its effect onboth of them--declined to hear a word on either side. "No,Richard! as long as I am alive this is my business, not yours.No, Mr. Dicas! I understand that it is your business to protestprofessionally. You have protested. Fill in the blank space as Ihave told you. Or leave the instructions on the table, and I willsend for the nearest solicitor to complete them in your place."

Those words placed the lawyer's position plainly before him. Hehad no choice but to do as he was bid, or to lose a good client.He did as he was bid, and grimly left the room

Sir Joseph, with old-fashioned politeness, followed him as far asthe hall. Returning to the library to say a few friendly wordsbefore finally dismissing the subject of the Will, he foundhimself seized by the arm, and dragged without ceremony, inTurlington's powerful grasp, to the window.

"Richard!" he exclaimed, "what does this mean?"

"Look!" cried the other, pointing through the window to a grassywalk in the grounds, bounded on either side by shrubberies, andsituated at a little distance from the house. "Who is that man?--quick! before we lose sight of him--the man crossing there fromone shrubbery to the other?" Sir Joseph failed to recognize thefigure before it disappeared. Turlington whispered fiercely,close to his ear--"Launcelot Linzie!"

In perfect good faith Sir Joseph declared that the man could notpossibly have been Launce. Turlington's frenzy of jealoussuspicion was not to be so easily calmed. He asked significantlyfor Natalie. She was reported to be walking in the grounds. "Iknew it!" he said, with an oath--and hurried out into the groundsto discover the truth for himself.

Some little time elapsed before he came back to the house. He haddiscovered Natalie--alone. Not a sign of Launce had rewarded hissearch. For the hundredth time he had offended Natalie. For thehundredth time he was compelled to appeal to the indulgence ofher father and her aunt. "It won't happen again," he said,sullenly penitent. "You will find me quite another man when Ihave got you all at my house in the country. Mind!" he burst out,with a furtive look, which expressed his inveterate distrust ofNatalie and of every one about her. "Mind! it's settled that youall come to me in Somersetshire, on Monday next." Sir Josephanswered rather dryly that it was settled. Turlington turned toleave the room--and suddenly came back. "It's understood," hewent on, addressing Miss Lavinia, "that the seventh of next monthis the date fixed for the marriage. Not a day later!" MissLavinia replied, rather dryly on her side, "Of course, Richard;not a day later. "He muttered, "All right" and hurriedly leftthem.

Half an hour afterward Natalie came in, looking a littleconfused.

"Has he gone?" she asked, whispering to her aunt.

Relieved on this point, she made straight for the library--a roomwhich she rarely entered at that or any other period of the day.Miss Lavinia followed her, curious to know what it meant. Nataliehurried to the window, and waved her handkerchief-- evidentlymaking a signal to some one outside. Miss Lavinia instantlyjoined her, and took her sharply by the hand.

"Is it possible, Natalie?" she asked. "Has Launcelot Linziereally been here, unknown to your father or to me?"

"Where is the harm if he has?" answered Natalie, with a suddenoutbreak of temper. "Am I never to see my cousin again, becauseMr. Turlington happens to be jealous of him?"

She suddenly turned away her head. The rich color flowed over herface and neck. Miss Lavinia, proceeding sternly with theadministration of the necessary reproof, was silenced midway by anew change in her niece's variable temper. Natalie burst intotears. Satisfied with this appearance of sincere contrition, theold lady consented to overlook what had happened; and, for thisoccasion only, to keep her niece's secret. They would all be inSomersetshire, she remarked, before any more breaches ofdiscipline could be committed. Richard had fortunately made nodisco veries; and the matter might safely be trusted, all thingsconsidered, to rest where it was.

Miss Lavinia might possibly have taken a less hopeful view of thecircumstances, if she had known that one of the men-servants atMuswell Hill was in Richard Turlington's pay, and that thisservant had seen Launce leave the grounds by the back-gardengate.