Mr. Rayburn was on his guard. He merely asked: "Why?" The housekeeper answered in a curiously indirect manner--partly in jest, as it seemed, and partly in earnest. "When a man has lost his wife," she said, "there's some difference of opinion in Parliament, as I hear, whether he does right or wrong, if he marries his wife's sister. Wait a bit! I'm coming to the point. My master is one who has a long head on his shoulders; he sees consequences which escape the notice of people like me. In his way of thinking, if one man may marry his wife's sister, and no harm done, where's the objection if another man pays a compliment to the family, and marries his brother's widow? My master, if you please, is that other man. Take the widow away before she marries him." This was beyond endurance. "You insult Mrs. Zant," Mr. Rayburn answered, "if you suppose that such a thing is possible!" "Oh! I insult her, do I? Listen to me. One of three things will happen. She will be entrapped into consenting to it--or frightened into consenting to it--or drugged into consenting to it--" Mr. Rayburn was too indignant to let her go on. "You are talking nonsense," he said. "There can be no marriage; the law forbids it." "Are you one of the people who see no further than their noses?" she asked insolently. "Won't the law take his money? Is he obliged to mention that he is related to her by marriage, when he buys the license?" She paused; her humor changed; she stamped furiously on the floor. The true motive that animated her showed itself in her next words, and warned Mr. Rayburn to grant a more favorable hearing than he had accorded to her yet. "If you won't stop it," she burst out, "I will! If he marries anybody, he is bound to marry ME. Will you take her away? I ask you, for the last time--_will_ you take her away?" The tone in which she made that final appeal to him had its effect. "I will go back with you to John Zant's house," he said, "and judge for myself." She laid her hand on his arm: "I must go first--or you may not be let in. Follow me in five minutes; and don't knock at the street door." On the point of leaving him, she abruptly returned. "We have forgotten something," she said. "Suppose my master refuses to see you. His temper might get the better of him; he might make it so unpleasant for you that you would be obliged to go." "_My_ temper might get the better of _me_," Mr. Rayburn replied; "and--if I thought it was in Mrs. Zant's interests--I might refuse to leave the house unless she accompanied me." "That will never do, sir." "Why not?" "Because I should be the person to suffer." "In what way?" "In this way. If you picked a quarrel with my master, I should be blamed for it because I showed you upstairs. Besides, think of the lady. You might frighten her out of her senses, if it came to a struggle between you two men." The language was exaggerated; but there was a force in this last objection which Mr. Rayburn was obliged to acknowledge.