"Exactly what _I_ have said," retorts the professor, fiercely.

"You refuse then to go with me in this matter?"

_"Finally._ Even if I would, I could not. I--have other views for
her."

"Indeed! Perhaps those other views include yourself. Are you
thinking of reserving the prize for your own special benefit? A
penniless guardian--a rich ward; as a situation, it is perfect;
full of possibilities."

"Take care," says the professor, advancing a step or two.

"Tut! Do you think I can't see through your game?" says Sir
Hastings, in his most offensive way, which is nasty indeed. "You
hope to keep me unmarried. You tell yourself, I can't live much
longer, at the pace I'm going. I know the old jargon--I have it by
heart--given a year at the most the title and the heiress will both
be yours! I can read you--I--" He breaks off to laugh sardonically,
and the cough catching him, shakes him horribly. "But, no, by
heaven!" cries he. "I'll destroy your hopes yet. I'll disappoint
you. I'll marry. I'm a young man yet--yet--with life--_long_ life
before me--life----"

A terrible change comes over his face, he reels backwards, only
saving himself by a blind clinging to a book-case on his right.

The professor rushes to him and places his arm round him. With his