"I give you my honour I have not the least idea." "I mean an early friend of yours--a man about your own age--who has often been staying in Yorkshire and at Mortlake with you, and who was almost like a brother in your house--very intimate." "Surely you can't mean Vivian Darnley?" exclaimed Richard Arden. "I do. I mean no other." "Vivian Darnley? Why, he has hardly enough to live on, much less to marry on. He has not an idea of any such thing. If my father fancied such an absurdity possible, he would take measures to prevent his ever seeing her more. You could not have hit upon a more impossible man," he resumed, after a moment's examination of a theory which, notwithstanding, made him a little more uneasy than he would have cared to confess. "Darnley is no fool either, and I think he is a honourable fellow; and altogether, knowing him as I do, the thing is utterly incredible. And as for Alice, the idea of his imagining any such folly, I can undertake to say, positively never entered her mind." Here was another pause. Longcluse was again thoughtful. "May I ask one other question, which I think you will have no difficulty in answering?" said he. "What you please, dear Longcluse; you may command me." "Only this, how do you think Sir Reginald would receive me?" "A great deal better than he will ever receive me; with his best bow--no, not that, but with open arms and his brightest smile. I tell you, and you'll find it true, my father is a man of the world. Money won't, of course, do everything; but it can do a great deal. It can't make a vulgar man a gentleman, but it may make a gentleman anything. I really think you would find him a very fast friend. And now I must leave you, dear Longcluse. I have just time, and no more, to keep my appointment with old Mr. Blount, to whom my uncle commands me to go at twelve." "Heaven keep us both, dear Arden, in this cheating world! Heaven keep us true in this false London world! And God punish the first who breaks faith with the other!" So spoke Longcluse, taking his hand again, and holding it hard for a moment, with his unfathomable dark eyes on Arden. Was there a faint and unconscious menace in his pale face, as he uttered these words, which a little stirred Arden's pride? "That's a comfortable litany to part with--a form of blessing elevated so neatly, at the close, into a malediction. However, I don't object. Amen, by all means," laughed Arden. Longcluse smiled. "A malediction? I really believe it was. Something very like it, and one that includes myself, doesn't it? But we are not likely to earn it. An arrow shot into the sea, it can hurt no one. But oh, dear Arden, what does such language mean but suffering? What is all bitterness but pain? Is any mind that deserves the name ever cruel, except from misery? We are good friends, Arden: and if ever I seem to you for a moment other than friendly, just say, 'It is his heart-ache and not he that speaks.' Good-bye! God bless you!"