"None," he replied. "Evil is done through her--not by her." And she stood silent, unable to protest. "But can't you be more explicit?" I cried, my anger rising. "If you make charges, I demand that you shall substantiate them. Recollect all that I have at stake in this matter." "I know--your life," he responded. "Well, I have already told you what to expect." "Sylvia," I said, turning to the pale girl standing trembling at my side, "will you not speak? Will you not tell me what all this means? By what right does this man speak thus? Has he any right?" She was silent for a few moments. Then slowly she nodded her head in an affirmative. "What right has he to forbid our affection?" I demanded. "I love you, and I tell you that no man shall come between us!" "He alone has a right, Owen," she said, addressing me for the first time by my Christian name. "What right?" But she would not answer. She merely stood with head downcast, and said-- "Ask him." This I did, but the thin-faced man refused to reply. All he would say was-- "I have forbidden this fatal folly, Mr. Biddulph. Please do not let us discuss it further." I confess I was both angry and bewildered. The mystery was hourly increasing. Sylvia had admitted that Shuttleworth had a right to interfere. Yet I could not discern by what right a mere friend could forbid a girl to entertain affection. I felt that the ever-increasing problem was even stranger and more remarkable than I had anticipated, and that when I fathomed it, it would be found to be utterly astounding! Sylvia was unwavering in her attachment to myself. Her antagonism towards Shuttleworth's pronouncement was keen and bitter, yet, with her woman's superior judgment, she affected carelessness. "You asked this lady to confess," I said, addressing him. "Confess what?" "The truth." Then I turned to my well-beloved and asked-- "What is the truth? Do you love me?" "Yes, Owen, I do," was her frank and fervent response. "I did not mean that," said Shuttleworth hastily. "I meant the truth concerning yourself." "Mr. Biddulph knows what I am." "But he does not know who you are." "Then you may tell him," was her hoarse reply. "Tell him!" she cried wildly. "Tear from me all that I hold sacred--all that I hold most dear--dash me back into degradation and despair--if you will! I am in your hands." "Sylvia!" he said reproachfully. "I am your friend--and your father's friend. I am not your enemy. I regret if you have ever thought I have lifted a finger against you." "Are you not standing as a barrier between myself and Mr. Biddulph?" she protested, her eyes flashing. "Because I see that only misfortune--ah! death--can arise. You know full well the promise I have made. You know, too, what has been told me in confidence, because--because my profession happens to be what it is--a humble servant of God."