The news of his only son’s engagement took Captain Nugent’s breath away, which, all things considered, was perhaps the best thing it could have done. He sat at home in silent rage, only exploding when the well-meaning Mrs. Kingdom sought to minimize his troubles by comparing them with those of Job. Her reminder that to the best of her remembrance he had never had a boil in his life put the finishing touch to his patience, and, despairing of drawing-room synonyms for the words which trembled on his lips, he beat a precipitate retreat to the garden. His son bore his new honours bravely. To an appealing and indignant letter from his sister he wrote gravely, reminding her of the difference in their years, and also that he had never interfered in her flirtations, however sorely his brotherly heart might have been wrung by them. He urged her to forsake such diversions for the future, and to look for an alliance with some noble, open-handed man with a large banking account and a fondness for his wife’s relatives. To Jem Hardy, who ventured on a delicate remonstrance one evening, he was less patient, and displayed a newly acquired dignity which was a source of considerable embarrassment to that well-meaning gentleman. He even got up to search for his hat, and was only induced to resume his seat by the physical exertions of his host. “I didn’t mean to be offensive,” said the latter. “But you were,” said the aggrieved man. Hardy apologized. “Talk of that kind is a slight to my future wife,” said Nugent, firmly. “Besides, what business is it of yours?” Hardy regarded him thoughtfully. It was some time since he had seen Miss Nugent, and he felt that he was losing valuable time. He had hoped great things from the advent of her brother, and now his intimacy seemed worse than useless. He resolved to take him into his confidence. “I spoke from selfish motives,” he said, at last. “I wanted you to make friends with your father again.” “What for?” inquired the other, staring. “To pave the way for me,” said Hardy, raising his voice as he thought of his wrongs; “and now, owing to your confounded matrimonial business, that’s all knocked on the head. I wouldn’t care whom you married if it didn’t interfere with my affairs so.” “Do you mean,” inquired the astonished Mr. Nugent, “that you want to be on friendly terms with my father?” “Yes.” Mr. Nugent gazed at him round-eyed. “You haven’t had a blow on the head or anything of that sort at any time, have you?” he inquired. Hardy shook his head impatiently. “You don’t seem to suffer from an excess of intellect yourself,” he retorted. “I don’t want to be offensive again, still, I should think it is pretty plain there is only one reason why I should go out of my way to seek the society of your father.” “Say what you like about my intellect,” replied the dutiful son, “but I can’t think of even one—not even a small one. Not—Good gracious! You don’t mean—you can’t mean—” Hardy looked at him.