‘Yes, it is lost, but Eve shall be no loser.’ ‘Look here, Miss Jordan, a beautiful face is like a beautiful song, charming in itself, but infinitely better with an accompaniment.’ ‘What do you mean, Mr. Coyshe?’ ‘A sweet girl may have beauty and amiability, but though these may be excellent legs for the matrimonial stool, a third must be added to prevent an upset, and that—metallic.’ Barbara made no reply. The audacity and impudence of the young surgeon took the power to reply from her. ‘You have not given me that fiddle,’ said Coyshe. ‘I am not sure you will carry it carefully,’ answered Barbara; nevertheless she resigned it to him. ‘When you part from me let the boy have it. I will not ride into Morwell cumbered with it.’ ‘A doctor,’ said Coyshe, ‘if he is to succeed in his profession, must be endowed with instinct as well as science. A cat does not know what ails it, but it knows when it is out of sorts; instinct teaches it to swallow a blade of grass. Instinct with us discovers the disorder, science points out the remedy. I may say without boasting that I am brimming with instinct—you have had a specimen or two—and I have passed splendid examinations, so that testifies to my science. Beer Alston cannot retain me long, my proper sphere is London. I understand the Duke has heard of me, and said to someone whom I will not name, that if I come to town he will introduce me. If once started on the rails I must run to success. Now I want a word with you in confidence, Miss Jordan. That boy is sufficiently in the rear not to hear. You will be mum, I trust?’ Barbara slightly nodded her assent. ‘I confess to you that I have been struck with your sister, Miss Eve. Who could fail to see her and not become a worshipper? She is a radiant star; I have never seen anyone so beautiful, and she is as good as she is beautiful.’ ‘Indeed, indeed she is,’ said Barbara, earnestly. ‘Montecuculli said,’ continued the surgeon, ‘that in war three things are necessary: money; secondly, money; thirdly, money. In love it is the same. We may regret it, but it is undeniable.’ Barbara did not know what to say. The assurance of the young man imposed on her; she did not like him particularly, but he was superior in culture to most of the young men she knew, who had no ideas beyond hunting and shooting. After a little while of consideration, she said, ‘Do you think you would make Eve happy?’ ‘I am sure of it. I have all the instincts of the family-man in me. A man may marry a score of times and be father of fifty children, without instinct developing the special features of domesticity. They are born in a man, not acquired. _Pater-familias nascitur, non fit._’ ‘Have you spoken to my father?’