“It would be possible to suggest other reasons for her unwillingness to accept your offer,” replied Mr. Levinger drily; “but this is neither here nor there. On the whole I approve of your suit, provided that you are ready to make proper settlements upon Joan, for I know you are a thriving man, and I see that you are attached to her.” “I’ll do anything that I can, sir, for I have no mind to stint money in this matter. But though you are so kind as to wish me well, I don’t see how that sets me any forrarder with Joan.” “Perhaps you will in a few days’ time, though. And now I’ve got a bit of advice to give you: don’t you bother about that six months’ promise. You go at her again in a week, let us say. You know how she is employed now, do you not?” “I have heard that she is helping to nurse the Captain.” “Quite so: she is helping to nurse the Captain. Now, please understand that I make no imputations, but I don’t know if you consider this a suitable occupation for a beautiful young woman whom you happen to wish to marry. Captain Graves is a very fine fellow, and people sometimes grow intimate under such circumstances. Joan told you that she cared for no man on the tenth of June. Perhaps if you wait till the tenth of December she may not be able to say so much.” By this time the poison of Mr. Levinger’s hints had sunk deep into his hearer’s mind; though had he known Samuel’s character more thoroughly, he might have thought the danger of distilling it greater than any advantage that was to be gained thereby. Indeed, a minute later he regretted having said so much, for, glancing at him, he saw that Rock was deeply affected. His sallow face had become red, his quivering lips were livid, and he was snatching at his thin beard. “Damn him!” he said, springing to his feet: “if he leads her that way, fine fellow or not, I’ll do for him. I tell you that if he wants to keep a whole skin, he had better leave my ewe-lamb alone.” In an instant Mr. Levinger saw that he had set fire to a jealousy fierce enough to work endless mischief, and too late he tried to stamp out the flame. “Sit down, sir,” he said quietly, but in the tone of one who at some time in his career had been accustomed to the command of men; “sit down, and never dare to speak before me like that again. Now,” he added, as Samuel obeyed him, “you will apologise to me for those words, and you will dismiss all such thoughts from your mind. Otherwise I tell you that I take back everything I have said, and that you shall never even speak to Joan Haste again.” Samuel’s fit of passion had passed by now, or perhaps it had been frightened away, for his face grew pale, paler than usual, and the constant involuntary movement of his furtive hands was the only sign left of the storm that shook him.