"Don't be nervous about accepting presents from me," said Sir Grantley, "because I shall bring you a great many." "I beg you will not, Sir Grantley," said Maude, flushing. "You must really by now be quite sure that such attentions are distasteful to me." "Not used to them, you know," said the baronet smiling; "but I have her ladyship's full permission, and we shall understand each other in time. Old gentleman sleeps well." "Papa is getting old, and his health is feeble," said Maude, rather indignantly. "Yes, very," said the baronet.--"I don't want to be a bore, but I've said so little to you about our future." "Our future?" "Yes; it's all settled. I proposed down at Hurst, and thought it was all over; but her ladyship kindly tells me that I may hope." "Sir Grantley Wilters," cried Maude, rising, "I am not of course ignorant of what mamma's wishes are, but let me tell you as a gentleman that this subject is very distasteful to me, and that I can never, never think otherwise of you than I do now." "Oh, yes, you will," said Sir Grantley, in a most unruffled manner. "You are very young, don't you know. Think differently by and bye. Bad job this about poor Melton." Maude started, and her eyes dilated slightly. "Thought he was a decent fellow once, but he's regularly going to the dogs." "Mr Melton is a friend of mine, Sir Grantley--a very dear friend of mine," cried Maude, crushing the stiff paper of the note she held in her hand. "Say was, my dear Maude," said Sir Grantley, making pokes at the pearl buttons on his patent leather boots with his walking cane. "Poor fellow! Was all right once, but he's hopelessly gone now." "I will not believe it," cried Maude indignantly. "It is cruel and ungentlemanly of you to try to blacken Mr Melton thus when he is not present." "Cruel perhaps, but kind," said Sir Grantley; "ungentlemanly, no." He drew himself up slightly, as he spoke. "Poor beggar, can't help being poor, you know. They say--" "Sir Grantley, I will not believe anything against Mr Melton," cried Maude with spirit. "Not till you have proved it, my dear child. I don't want to pain you, but I know that the thoughts of Charles Melton have kept you from listening to me. Now, my dear Maude, if I were out of the race, you could not marry a man who is hopelessly in the hands of the Jews. Couldn't do it, you know; and they do say." "Sir Grantley Wilters," cried Maude, with her head thrown back, "these are cruel calumnies. Mr Charles Melton is a gentleman, and the soul of honour. I shall tell him your words."