A dreadful chuckle from the sick man seemed to freeze Hugh. If Sir Roderick would only refrain from that ghastly, rattling laugh! “You say you love her, but that you would not have dared—what bosh! Hamlet, you would be a bad witness. Never mind. The question is—to be, or not to be? Will you marry Lilia, or _not_?” What a position! He was utterly unprepared, too. For some moments he hardly knew what to do or say; then he felt he must fight Sir Roderick’s eccentricity for _her_ sake. “What would your daughter say?” he asked, gently. “You must not dispose of her. No one has a right to dispose of another. Of course, I would ask her to marry me, if I thought she wished it.” “Of course she wishes it!” gasped Sir Roderick. His eyes shone with excitement; cold beads were on his pale forehead. “How can you tell?” suggested Hugh, in desperation. The sick man had a fit of gasping. Hugh supported him, fearing that the end was come. But after he had swallowed a stimulating draught, he revived somewhat, and asked that his brother, Mr. Pym, his nephew, Roderick, and Lilia might be summoned. Feeling a certain dread and a thorough reluctance, Hugh fetched the nurses, one of whom was despatched to bring in Mr. and Captain Pym and Lilia. “Hold me,” said Sir Roderick. “Sit by me. Yes, that’s right; and hold me. Goodness! why ever there are women nurses I can’t make out! They can’t hold one like that!” It took all Hugh’s strength to support his host’s dead weight. Sir Roderick’s cunning had evidently not left him. In Hugh’s position, as prop to a dying man, he could hardly assert himself if called upon to do so. The first to enter the sick chamber was Mr. Pym, a slight old man of middle height, with a long thin face and small keen eyes. His manner was quiet and self-contained. He accepted a chair from the nurse as calmly as he would had she been one of his clerks and he in his own office. “An emotionless man of business,” was Hugh’s mental comment. “The hero of a scandal? Never!” Then came Roderick—pale, handsome. He inclined his head haughtily to Hugh, then bent over his uncle. “You are not worse, uncle, I hope?” he said. “Better, according to religious people, like your father,” sneered Sir Roderick. “You feel better every Sunday, don’t you, William? Nearer heaven? I’m dying, so of course I’m better, nearer heaven.” Mr. Pym reddened. At that moment Lilia entered. Mr. Pym rose and offered her his chair. She was declining it, and going to the bedside, when her father querulously said, “No, no; take it!” and she accordingly seated herself. “I wanted you together,” began Sir Roderick, “to tell you a few truths. I once believed in honest men.” He looked from one to the other; then gave a chuckle, and choked. When he recovered, he added, meaningly: “You, William, put an end to that. You made me wiser, much wiser.” Lilia’s pale face flushed. Hugh met her glance of appeal, and turned away. What could he do?