He moved towards the window, as though inviting his son to accompany him into the grounds, and to have that talk out there and then; but Robert stood still. "Thank you, dad; it's very good of you, and I'll have all the talk with you you can possibly desire--after I have had a talk with Nora." All at once the girl solved the question in her own fashion; she spoke tremulously, yet in haste. "I--I think that if Mr. Spencer won't go, then--then it is better that I should." And she did go, towards the door, and through it like a flash, before the person principally concerned had a chance to stop her. "Nora!" he cried, the instant she had gone, and he went rushing towards the door through which she had vanished; but again his mother, showing an agility which, in a person of her years, was remarkable, stood in his way. "Robert, I insist upon your conducting yourself like a gentleman! If you will not show me the respect which is due to your mother, you at least shall not behave in a stranger's house in a way which is unbecoming to my son." He looked at the old woman, who had planted herself in front of him, upright and stiff as a post, and he drew back; this time his smile was grave. "Mother, I trust that you are not forgetting that there is a respect which a mother owes to her son. Why do you object to my having any conversation with my affianced wife?" "Don't you know that her father is dead?" "Certainly I know it; just dead, and just buried; it is on that account that I feel so strongly that my place is with her." "Don't talk nonsense!" "Mother, when you were alone in the world, didn't you feel that my father's place was with you?" "Robert, your brothers have behaved like fools, but I hope you won't; you are all the hope I have left; it will break my heart if you do. This girl's father has turned out to be an impostor!" "An impostor? Mother, in saying what you have to say to me will you please remember you are speaking of the woman who is to be my wife, and your daughter, and so choose language which does not convey more than you intend?" "Don't presume to lecture me! that is going too far. I say he has turned out to be an impostor--and he has!" "In what sense?" "He told your father he was going to give his girl a house and furniture and five thousand a year, besides leaving her a rich woman when he died; and now he hasn't left enough to pay his debts; if that isn't being an impostor I don't know what is!" "A good deal of water has gone over the mill since he said that; he may have had money then, and yet have lost every penny of it since." "Then he ought to have told you." "Why?" "Why! you know perfectly well why. I believe it is your wish to irritate me, when I'm very far from well, as your father here will tell you. That man knew that you were not in a position to marry a poor woman, and that we should never have given our consent if it had not been for this distinct assurance that his daughter would be amply provided for."