“I trust that I am civil to everybody, Ellen.” “Yes, no doubt,” she replied, in her quiet, persistent voice; “but you see there are ways _and_ ways of being civil. I am not sure that you have quite realised the position.” “Oh yes, I have thoroughly. I am expected to marry this lady, that is, if she is foolish enough to take me in payment of what my father owes to hers. But I tell you, Ellen, that I do not see my way to it at present.” “Please don’t get angry, dear,” said Ellen more gently; “I dare say that such a notion is unpleasant enough, and in a way—well, degrading to a proud man. Of course no one can force you to marry her if you don’t wish to, and the whole business will probably fall through. All I beg is that you will cultivate the Levingers a little, and give the matter fair consideration. For my part I think that it would be much more degrading to allow our father to become bankrupt at his age than for you to marry a good and clever girl like Emma Levinger. However, of course I am only a woman, and have no ‘sense of honour’ or at least one that is not strong enough to send my family to the workhouse when by a little self-sacrifice I could keep them out of it.” And with this sarcasm Ellen left the room before Henry could find words to reply to her. That morning Henry walked with his mother to the church in order to inspect his brother’s grave a melancholy and dispiriting duty the more so, indeed, because his sense of justice would not allow him to acquit the dead man of conduct that, to his strict integrity, seemed culpable to the verge of dishonour. On their homeward way Lady Graves also began to talk about the Levingers. “I suppose you have heard, Henry, that Mr. Levinger and his daughter are coming here this afternoon?” “Yes, mother; Ellen told me.” “Indeed. You will remember Miss Levinger, no doubt. She is a nice girl in every sense; your dear brother used to admire her very much.” “Yes, I remember her a little; but Reginald’s tastes and mine were not always similar.” “Well, Henry, I hope that you will like her. It is a delicate matter to speak about, even for a mother to a son, but you know now how terribly indebted we are to the Levingers, and of course if a way could be found out of our difficulties it would be a great relief to me and to your dear father. Believe me, my boy, I do not care so much about myself; but I wish, if possible, to save him from further sorrow. I think that very little would kill him now.” “See here, mother,” said Henry bluntly: “Ellen tells me that you wish me to marry Miss Levinger for family reasons. Well, in this matter, as in every other, I will try to oblige you if I can; but I cannot understand what grounds you have for supposing that the young lady wishes to marry me. So far as I can judge, she might take her fortune to a much better market.”