"Say what you like," said Brooke, with a genial smile; for his ill-humor had vanished in spite of his apparent opposition to Maurice's suit. "I should like nothing better--for my own part; but we are both bound to consider Lesley. You know you are a shocking bad match for her. Oh, I know you are the descendant of kings and all that sort of bosh, but as a matter of fact you are only a young medico, a general practitioner, and his lordship is bound to think that I am making something for myself out of the marriage." "You don't think he'll consent?" "Never, my dear boy. One mesalliance was enough for him. He has got rid of me, and regained his daughter; but no doubt he intends to repair her mistake by a grand match for Lesley." "But perhaps she would not marry the man he chose for her?" Brooke laughed. "Can't answer for Lesley, I don't know her well enough," he said. "Have you any notion, now, that she cares for you?" Maurice shook his head dismally. "Not in the least. I scarcely think she even likes me. But I mean to try my chance some day." "I wish you joy," said Lesley's father, with a slight enigmatical smile. "Especially with the Earl of Courtleroy. Hallo! there's the dinner bell. We have wasted all our time talking up here: you'll stay and dine?" "No, thanks--wish I could, but I must dine with Ethel, and go out directly afterwards." "When is the marriage to take place?" said Caspar, directing a keen glance to the face of his friend. "Ethel's? There is nothing settled." "I say, Maurice, I don't like Trent. He's a slippery customer. I would look after him a bit if I were you, and put Ethel on her guard. I think I am bound to say as much as that." "Do you think any harm of him?" "I _think_ harm of him--unjustly, perhaps. I am not so sure that I know of any. I only want you to keep your eyes open. Good-bye, old man." And Caspar Brooke gave his friend's hand such a pressure that Maurice went away satisfied that Lesley's father, at any rate, and in spite of protest, was upon his side.