"Never is a long word, Allan, and I dare say that what you are so sure
is impossible will happen after all," words that made me angry enough at
the time, though in after years I often thought of them.

"But," he went on, "putting my own wishes, perhaps prejudices, aside, I
think your suit hopeless. Although Henri Marais likes you well enough
and is grateful to you just now because you have saved the daughter whom
he loves, you must remember that he hates us English bitterly. I
believe that he would almost as soon see his girl marry a half-caste as
an Englishman, and especially a poor Englishman, as you are, and unless
you can make money, must remain. I have little to leave you, Allan."

"I might make money, father, out of ivory, for instance. You know I am
a good shot."

"Allan, I do not think you will ever make much money, it is not in your
blood; or, if you do, you will not keep it. We are an old race, and I
know our record, up to the time of Henry VIII. at any rate. Not one of
us was ever commercially successful. Let us suppose, however, that you
should prove yourself the exception to the rule, it can't be done at
once, can it? Fortunes don't grow in a night, like mushrooms."

"No, I suppose not, father. Still, one might have some luck."

"Possibly. But meanwhile you have to fight against a man who has the
luck, or rather the money in his pocket."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting up.

"I mean Hernando Pereira, Allan, Marais's nephew, who they say is one of