Magnus began to walk up and down the room, looking agitated. "What would you do?" he said at last. "Well," said Artingale, after a pause, "I feel greatly disposed to take the law in my, or our, own hands." "Why do you say _our_?" asked Magnus, hoarsely. "Because I look upon it as your case as much as mine. Look here, old fellow, Cynthia and I both think you are the man who would make Julia happy, and if you don't win her it is your own fault." "And Perry-Morton?" "Hang Perry-Morton! Confound him for a contemptible, colourless bit of canvas--or, no, I ought to say brass, for the fellow has the impudence of a hundred. A man without a pretension to art in any way pretending to be a patron and connoisseur, and, above all, to be my brother-in-law. Hang the fellow! I hate him; Cynthia hates him; and we won't have him at any price. No, dear boy, we want you, and if you don't go in and win and wear Julia, why, it is your own fault." Magnus turned to the window, and stood looking out dreamily. "Faint heart never won fair lady, Mag," cried Artingale, merrily; "and how you, who have always been like a Mentor to this wandering Telemachus, can be such a coward about Julia, I can't conceive. Not afraid of the brothers, are you?" "Pish! Absurd! How can she help her brothers!" "Well, then, what is it?" Magnus turned upon him slowly, and gazed at him fixedly. "Harry," he said, "you love Cynthia?" "By George! yes, with all my heart," cried the young man, enthusiastically. "Yes," said Magnus, "I am sure you do. Then it should be the easier for you to think of a love where a man looks up so to the woman he worships that he would sooner suffer than cause her a moment's pain, when, knowing that she does not--that she cannot return his affection--" "Hold hard. Now look here, my dear Magnus, don't let sentiment take the bit in its teeth and bolt with you, or else we shall have a smash. Now I say, look here, old man, why cannot Julia return your love?" "It is impossible. She is engaged." "Bah! what has such an engagement to do with it? I tell you I believe that poor little Julia is perfectly heart-whole, and that the flower of her affection--I say, that's pretty, isn't it?--I told you not to let sentiment bolt with you, and I am talking like a valentine! But seriously, old fellow, I am sure that Julia detests Perry-Morton." "How can you be sure?" said Magnus, gloomily. "Very easily, my cynical old sage. Don't sisters indulge in confidences, and when one of the confidential sisters has a young man, as people in the kitchen call it, doesn't she confide things to him?" Magnus looked at him for a moment or two excitedly, but a gloom seemed to settle upon him directly after, and he shook his head. "No," he said, "it is hopeless; but all the same, Harry, we must, as you say, put a stop to this annoyance. What do you propose?" "There are two courses open, as Parliamentary people say." "Yes; go on. You are so slow; you torture me."