“And she has never dropped me a hint. Upon my word, this is not the first time things have happened in my house, right under my nose, which all the world has seen but me. But it’s out of the question. My plans are formed, and they don’t include your marriage with Conny. No. _Your_ wife must be Theresa. You are made for each other. When I die, who do I leave behind me to keep the bank going? This has been on my mind for years. But when I got your father’s letter I instantly saw my way. _You_ should marry Theresa, who would bring you a fortune to put into the concern, and Conny should wait until some eligible young man offered for her hand, and then I’d make _him_ a partner. You two would carry on the business after my death. Conny is sure to marry sooner or later, she is too pretty to remain single. As to the objections you could make against marrying a woman for her money, I can anticipate them all by simply showing you that your partnership will be a handsome equivalent for the fortune she brings.” “Too late! too late!” I muttered, looking at the moon. “Why the deuce didn’t my wife speak to me about this nonsense?” asked my uncle, who was evidently fretting over her secret share in the matter. “But all women are alike. No matter which way the current runs, you’ll find them rowing against it. Why, surely she can’t see her way in your marriage with Conny?” “For God’s sake don’t poo-pooh me,” I cried. “You don’t know how I love her.” “I don’t want to know. I would much rather not hear. The thing’s a mistake. I never expected it. It must end. You’re a fine fellow, and I would as soon see you Conny’s husband as another man. But there are obstacles not to be got over under a larger sum of money than you possess. Don’t disappoint me. Don’t object and argue. My scheme is perfect. I maintain it is a magnificent scheme. It assures your fortune; it assures the permanency of the bank; it increases our capital; it gratifies my brother, and will please your father.” I puffed furiously at my cigar, too much overcome to speak. I suppose he must have seen how completely upset I was, for dropping his somewhat energetic and expostulatory tone, he said in his kindest manner, “Well, Charlie, we won’t discuss the subject any further tonight. It is only reasonable, after all, that it should take you by surprise. I have a sound confidence in your good sense, and have no doubt whatever, that after you have turned the matter over once or twice in your mind, you will agree with me in thinking my plan a remarkably fine one.” “Never!” I muttered to myself. “Never!” “Or what is better,” he continued, “instead of disturbing yourself with reflections, wait until you have met Theresa. If she doesn’t bring you to her feet, may this glass be my poison!” “You don’t consider my feelings,” I said, bitterly. “You forget that I am already in love.” “Well, well, wait till you have met Theresa.” “I’ll wait,” said I, grimly.