"Pardon me, Mr. Wyllard, if I confess that I was among those bumpkins. Mr. Grahame's refusal to answer Mr. Distin's questions, and his obvious agitation, led me to believe that he was concerned in that girl's death. I am thankful to be able to say that my discoveries on this side of the Channel all point in a different direction, while on the other hand my sister assures me that her lover has satisfactorily explained the reason of his peculiar conduct at the inquest."
"You have no further objection to Bothwell as a husband for your sister?"
"No, my esteem for the race from which he sprang is a strong reason why I should sanction the match; although worldly wisdom is decidedly against a girl's marriage with a man who was a soldier, and who is—nothing."
"It shall be our business—Dora's and mine—to reconcile worldly wisdom and foolish love. My wife tells me that her cousin has turned over a new leaf—that he has schemed out a new career, and has set to work with a wonderful amount of energy—just that strong purpose which has been lacking in him hitherto."
"I have heard as much, and a good deal more than this, from my sister."
"Well, then, my dear Heathcote, all I need add is that means shall not be wanting to my wife's kinsman to enable him to carry out the scheme of life which he has made for himself, comfortably and creditably. Dora and I are both rich. We have no children. We can afford to be generous in the present; and those we love must naturally profit by our wealth in the future. Dora's fortune will, in all likelihood, go to Bothwell's children. In a word, your sister is not asked to marry a pauper."
"I have never thought of the question from a financial standpoint."
"But it must be not the less agreeable to you to know that the financial aspect is satisfactory," answered Wyllard. "And now what is to hinder a speedy marriage? It is my wife's wish, Bothwell's wish, mine, everybody's, so far as I can understand, except yours. You are the only hindrance. Heathcote, I want to see Bothwell and Hilda married before I die."
"Julian!" cried his wife, with a stifled sob.
"O my dearest, I am not going to leave you yet awhile," answered her husband, clasping her hand, and raising it to his lips with infinite tenderness. "My doctors promise me a slow deliverance. But when a man has begun to die, were it never so gradually, it is time for him to set his house in order. I should like to see Bothwell and Hilda married in Bodmin Church, before the eyes of the people who have maligned my wife's kinsman. I should like the wedding to take place as soon as possible.
