"Miles puts the matter a trifle pointedly," he began, "but, on the whole, he expresses my own views. For many reasons I strongly disapprove of an English girl marrying out of her people, and as you are too young and inexperienced to appreciate those reasons, you must submit to my simple authority. I must, dear child, absolutely refuse my consent to this premature and regrettable engagement. I have no doubt that Frau von Arnim will see for herself that in her anxiety to effect an advantageous alliance for her nephew she has been over-hasty—I must say, inexcusably hasty, in giving her sanction." "Thank goodness _that_ is knocked on the head!" Miles said, rising triumphantly to his feet. "I swear to you, the bare possibility makes me feel positively faint. We all know what German officers are like—bullying drinkers and gamblers——" Nora turned and looked at him. There was something very like hatred in her dangerously bright eyes. "I forbid you to speak like that of a class to which my future husband belongs!" she said. "Besides what you said being nonsense, it is also cowardly to attack where no chance is given to defend. As to my engagement"—she turned again to her father, and her voice grew calm and firm—"whether you give your consent or not makes no real difference. In a short time I shall be of age, and then I shall marry Wolff. We can afford to wait, if it must be." "Nora!" The Rev. John recovered his breath with difficulty. "How can you—how dare you speak to me like that? Have you forgotten that I am your father—that——" "I have not forgotten anything," Nora interrupted, in the same steady accents, "but it would be hypocritical of me to pretend a submission which I do not feel and which I should consider disloyal. Hitherto my duty has been towards you—it is now due to the man whom I love above every other earthly consideration. It does not matter in the least to me that Wolff is a foreigner. If he were a Hottentot it would make no difference." Neither the Rev. John nor his son found any immediate answer. They looked at the proud, determined face, and perhaps in various degrees of distinctness each realised that Nora the child was a creature of the past, and that this was a woman who stood before them, armed and invulnerable in the strength of her awakened passion. The Rev. John, completely thrown out of his concept by this unexpected revelation, looked at his wife with the weak appeal of a blusterer who suddenly discovers that he has blustered in vain. Mrs. Ingestre saw the look—possibly she had been waiting for it. "I think that, if all Nora says is true, we have no right to interfere," she said quietly, "and the best thing we can do is to ask Captain von Arnim to come and see us. What do you say, Nora?"