"I see this immense objection," answered Obenreizer, "that my niece and
you are not on a social equality together. My niece is the daughter of a
poor peasant; and you are the son of a gentleman. You do us an honour,"
he added, lowering himself again gradually to his customary polite level,
"which deserves, and has, our most grateful acknowledgments. But the
inequality is too glaring; the sacrifice is too great. You English are a
proud people, Mr. Vendale. I have observed enough of this country to see
that such a marriage as you propose would be a scandal here. Not a hand
would be held out to your peasant-wife; and all your best friends would
desert you."

"One moment," said Vendale, interposing on his side. "I may claim,
without any great arrogance, to know more of my country people in
general, and of my own friends in particular, than you do. In the
estimation of everybody whose opinion is worth having, my wife herself
would be the one sufficient justification of my marriage. If I did not
feel certain--observe, I say certain--that I am offering her a position
which she can accept without so much as the shadow of a humiliation--I
would never (cost me what it might) have asked her to be my wife. Is
there any other obstacle that you see? Have you any personal objection
to me?"

Obenreizer spread out both his hands in courteous protest. "Personal
objection!" he exclaimed. "Dear sir, the bare question is painful to
me."

"We are both men of business," pursued Vendale, "and you naturally expect
me to satisfy you that I have the means of supporting a wife. I can
explain my pecuniary position in two words. I inherit from my parents a
fortune of twenty thousand pounds. In half of that sum I have only a