“Look here, Ellen,” he said; “it is all very fine, but you have been playing it pretty low down upon me. I never heard a word of this mess, although, of course, I knew that you were embarrassed, like most people nowadays. What I did not know—to say nothing of your not having a penny— was that I am to have the honour of marrying into a family of bankrupts; and, to tell you the truth, I am half inclined to reconsider my position, for I don’t wish to be mixed up with this sort of thing.” “About that you must do as you like, Edward,” she answered, with dignity; “but let me tell you that this state of affairs is not my fault. In the first place, it is the fault of those who are dead and gone, and still more is it the fault of my brother Henry, whose wickedness and folly threaten to plunge us all into ruin.” “What do you mean by his ‘wickedness and folly’?” “I mean that matter of which I spoke to you before—the matter of this wretched girl, Joan Haste. It seems that he has become involved in some miserable intrigue with her, after the disgusting fashion of you men, and on this account he refuses to marry Emma Levinger. Yes, although my father prayed him to do so with his dying breath, he still refuses, when he knows that it would be his own salvation and that of his family also.” “He must be mad,” said Edward—“stark, staring mad: it’s no such great wonder about the girl, but that he should decline to marry Miss Levinger is sheer insanity; for, although I don’t think much of her, and the connection is a bad one, it is clear that she has got the dollars. What does he mean to do, then? Marry the other one?” “Very possibly, for all I know to the contrary. It would be quite in keeping with his conduct.” “Oh, hang it, Ellen!—that I could not stand. It is not to be expected of any man that he should come into a family of which the head will be a bankrupt, who insists upon marrying a barmaid.” “Again I say that you must please yourself, Edward; but if you feel so strongly about Henry’s conduct—and I admit that it is quite natural that you should do so—perhaps you had better speak to him yourself.” “All right: I will,” he answered. “Although I don’t like meddling with other people’s love affairs, for I have quite enough to do to manage my own, I will give him my mind pretty straight. He’s a nasty customer to tackle; but if he doesn’t know before he is an hour older that there are other people to be considered in the world besides himself, it sha’n’t be my fault, that’s all.” “I am sure it is very brave of you, dear,” said Ellen, with veiled sarcasm. “But, if I may venture to advise, I would suggest what my poor father used to call the _suaviter in modo_ in preference to the _fortiter in re._” “Oh, bother your Latin!” said Edward. “Please speak English.”