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 connection 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,