'And the mother--was she a decent, worthy young woman?'

'O yes; a sensible, quiet girl, neither attractive nor unattractive
to the ordinary observer; simply commonplace. Her position at the
time of our acquaintance was not so good as mine. My father was a
solicitor, as I think I have told you. She was a young girl in a
music-shop; and it was represented to me that it would be beneath my
position to marry her. Hence the result.'

'Well, all I can say is that after twenty years it is probably too
late to think of mending such a matter. It has doubtless by this
time mended itself. You had better dismiss it from your mind as an
evil past your control. Of course, if mother and daughter are alive,
or either, you might settle something upon them, if you were
inclined, and had it to spare.'

'Well, I haven't much to spare; and I have relations in narrow
circumstances--perhaps narrower than theirs. But that is not the
point. Were I ever so rich I feel I could not rectify the past by
money. I did not promise to enrich her. On the contrary, I told her
it would probably be dire poverty for both of us. But I did promise
to make her my wife.'

'Then find her and do it,' said the doctor jocularly as he rose to
leave.

'Ah, Bindon. That, of course, is the obvious jest. But I haven't
the slightest desire for marriage; I am quite content to live as I
have lived. I am a bachelor by nature, and instinct, and habit, and