“Yes, of course,” said Lady Haigh, hastily. “You have been a very good boy, Charlie, and obeyed me splendidly, but lately I have noticed a sort of I-bide-my-time air about you, which didn’t look well. You shall have your chance, certainly, but I wouldn’t advise you to be too sure about it.” “I am not,” said Charlie, “but I mean to have it.” “Well, my dear boy,” went on his cousin, soothingly, “travelling as lightly as you do, you will be well able to be back before Christmas, you see. The new agreement need not be signed until Christmas Eve, and if you are not back then it will be your own fault.” “But something might prevent me,” he said, dolefully; “and only think if I came back and found that she had bound herself for another three years of slavery to that child!” “You think that you could prevent it if you were here?” asked Lady Haigh, in the tone that she had used once before when casting a doubt on the likelihood of Charlie’s success. “I don’t know,” he said, humbly enough, “but I almost think, if I had her alone, and could make her listen to me, that I could.” “Well, that you must settle for yourself, of course. I will do my best for you, Charlie. Supposing (but I don’t in the least anticipate it) that you are not back by Christmas Eve, I will tell Cecil the state of things before she signs the agreement. It may be that she is more homesick and tired of her work than she seems, and that she will be willing to listen to the proposal, but I can’t promise you success. I only say I will do what I can, for you have been very obedient, and behaved very well. That’s all I can promise.” “Thank you awfully, Cousin Elma. It’s very good of you. Only wouldn’t it save you the trouble if I wrote to her now, before I went?” “What! you haven’t had enough of Azim Bey and his suspicions yet?” asked Lady Haigh; and as Charlie shrugged his shoulders in silence, she went on with much animation, “Charlie, I really must have it out with you, though I know it’s no good, but I will never refer to it again. Has it ever struck you how very foolish you are? Either by misfortune or by your own fault you have lost most of your chances, and come to be regarded either as a cranky clever fellow or as a pleasant good sort of man, but a most unlucky one. You ought to be thankful if you could get the most commonplace, unsophisticated girl that was ever brought up in a remote country village at home to take you, but no--you must fly high. You fall in love with a girl who is clever herself and can’t help knowing it, who has had unusual advantages in the way of education, and whose talents command a fair market value. It is to her interest not to marry you, and you will probably get into trouble even if you are merely engaged, and she laughs at you continually. Why don’t you give her up?” “I don’t know,” said Charlie, meditatively. “Because I love her, I suppose, Cousin Elma. I had rather she laughed at me than forgot me, at any rate.”