"I suppose it is. And I suppose--being one of them--it's nothing to you that this man's name has been cried high and low throughout the British Empire as a monster of iniquity, a base cowardly villain, so afraid of being found out that he nearly let another man swing for him--that's nothing to you, eh?" Cynthia's cheeks burned. "It is nothing to me because it is not true," she said. "I know the world says so; but the world is wrong. He is not cowardly--he is not base; he has a noble heart. And when he did wrong it was for his sister's sake and to save her from punishment--not for his own. Oh, father, you never spoke so hardly of him before!" "I am only repeating what the world says," replied Westwood stolidly. "I am not stating my own private opinion. What the world says is a very important thing, Cynthia." "I don't care for what it says!" cried Cynthia impatiently. "But I care--not for myself, but for you. And we've got to pay some attention to it--you and I and the man you marry, whoever he may be." "It will be Hubert Lepel or nobody, father." "It may be Hubert; but it won't be Hubert Lepel with my consent. He has no call to be very proud of his name that I can see. Look here, Cynthia! When he comes out, you can tell him this from me--he may marry you if he'll take the name of 'Westwood' and give up that of 'Lepel'. Many a man does that, I'm told, when he comes into a fortune. Well, you're a fortune in yourself, besides what I've got to leave you. If he won't do that, he won't do much for you." "I am not ashamed of his name," said Cynthia, with a little tremor in her voice. "Well, perhaps not; but I'd rather it was so. I don't think I'm unreasonable, my dear. 'Lepel' isn't a common name, and it's too well known. As 'Mrs. Hubert Westwood' you will escape remark much more easily than as 'Mrs. Hubert Lepel.' I don't think it is too much to ask; and it's the one condition I make before I give my consent to his marrying you." "I will tell him, father. Perhaps he will not mind." "If he minds, he won't be worthy of you--that's all I've got to say," said Westwood, rising to his feet and preparing to leave the room. But Cynthia intercepted him: "Father, if he consents, you will forgive him, will you not?" she said putting her hands on his shoulder and looking anxiously into his eyes. "Forgive him, my dear? Well, I suppose I have done that, or I shouldn't say that he might marry you at all." "And you will forget the past, and love him a little for my sake?" "I'm bound to love the people you love, Cynthy," said the old man stooping to kiss the beautiful face, and patting her cheek with his roll of plans; "and I don't think you've got any call to feel afraid." CHAPTER LII.