life-interest, to which, if I die, leaving a widow, my widow succeeds. If
I die, leaving children, the money itself is divided among them, as they
come of age. The other half of my fortune is at my own disposal, and is
invested in the wine-business. I see my way to greatly improving that
business. As it stands at present, I cannot state my return from my
capital embarked at more than twelve hundred a year. Add the yearly
value of my life-interest--and the total reaches a present annual income
of fifteen hundred pounds. I have the fairest prospect of soon making it
more. In the meantime, 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