"How much do you want, John Huish?" said the voice. "Give me the pen and ink." The thin white hand appeared impatiently at the opening, with the fingers clutching as if to take the pen. "No, no, no!" said the young man hastily. "It is not that. Let me tell you," he exclaimed, as the fingers ceased to clutch impatiently at the air and the white hand rested calmly upon the edge of the opening--"let me speak plainly, for I am not ashamed of it--I am in love." There was a faint sigh here, hardly audible to the young man, who went on: "I come to you for help and advice." "What can I do to help? As for advice," said the voice coldly, "I will do what I can. Is she worthy of your love?" "Worthy?" cried Huish, flushing. "She is an angel." "Yes," said the voice, with a sigh. "They all are. But, tell me, does she refuse you." "No, sir." "Then what more do you want? Who and what is she?" These last words were said with more approach to interest, and the fingers began to tap the edge of the opening. "It is presumption on my part," said Huish, growing excited, and rising to stride up and down the room, "for I am poor and unworthy of her." "No true honourable man is unworthy of the woman he loves," said the voice calmly, "though he may, perhaps, be unsuited. Go on. Who is the lady?" "Who is she, sir? I believed that you must know. It is your niece-- Gertrude." "My God!" It was almost a whisper, but John Huish heard it, and saw that the thin white hand seemed to be jerked upwards, falling slowly back, though, to remain upon the edge of the opening trembling. "I shock you, sir, by my announcement," said Huish bitterly. "No--yes--no; net shock--surprise me greatly." There was a pause, and the fingers trembled as they were now and again raised, then grew steady as they were laid down. "But tell me," it continued, trembling and becoming less cold, "does Gertrude return your love?" "Oh yes, Heaven bless her, yes!" cried the young man fervently; and there was another silence, such as might have ensued had the owner of the voice been trying to master some emotion. "What more, then, do you want?" said the voice, now greatly changed. "You, an honourable young man, in love with a girl who is all sweetness and purity. It is strange; but it is the will of God. Marry her, and may He bless the union!" "Captain Millet, you make me very, very happy," cried the young man; and before the hand could be removed it was seized and pressed in his strong grasp. It was withdrawn directly, and a fresh silence ensued, when the voice said softly: "And my brother, does he approve?" "Oh yes; I think so," replied Huish; "but--" "The mother objects--of course. She has made her choice. Who is it?" "Lord Henry Moorpark." "A man nearly three times her age. It would be a crime. You will not permit such an outrage against her youth. Moorpark must be mad." "What can I do, sir?" cried Huish. "That is why I ask your help and counsel."