There was no more to be said. Harry Stanhope must not be kept kicking his heels in the mill-house court a moment longer. As Harry had calmly stated at an early stage of the contest, Oliver could not prevent his sister from making her own choice of a husband: she was of age, she was mistress of herself in every way, including the disposal of her little fortune. With respect to that, Oliver had been more just to Harry Stanhope than her brother had shown himself to Fan. Oliver had not attributed mercenary motives to the lad, as the person who ought to have known her best had fastened upon Fan the all-powerful promptings of a vain and small ambition. Oliver was quite aware that men of the class to which Harry belonged are often as good arithmeticians as the huxterers whom the gentlemen despise. The sons of the most ancient and noble families, having the bluest blood in their veins, will look out for ‘tin’ with their wives, even though the suitors have to descend into mercantile walks and put up with plebeian antecedents, in order to secure the indispensable metal, as unblushingly as the northern farmer sought ‘prupitty’ with his daughter-in-law. Perhaps the young patricians may plead the obligation of necessity in the cases of all save the heads of their houses. The eldest son has his future secured; but if he has unfortunate younger brothers, it may reasonably be said—in spite of the gentlemanly professions provided for them, which, when it comes to that, for the most part imply the spending rather than the earning of money—they cannot dig, and to beg they are ashamed. But Harry was not of this stamp, though he may have used their slang in conversation. His mortal enemy could not accuse him of being calculating. His defects, however flagrant, were free from mercenary meanness. Oliver looked upon himself as compelled to yield a formal outward assent, in contradiction to the inward protest, to Fan’s right in the selection of a mate. Therefore, there was no open rupture in the little family. Harry Stanhope, after his momentary spurt of anger, only laughed at his future brother-in-law’s manner of receiving his first overtures, and at Oliver’s way of conducting himself in the later arrangements. In Harry’s eyes, Oliver’s behaviour was in keeping with the grumpiness which the young aristocrat had always imputed to his democratic senior. It was part of the _rôle_ of a radical, which Harry conceived Oliver to be. Harry could afford to treat the matter lightly; neither did Oliver, after the first pang of painful surprise and bitter disappointment, wish to quarrel outright with Fan’s bridegroom. Thus the two preserved a truce; though they fell off, rather than drew closer, in whatever friendship had hitherto existed between them, in the prospect of their nearer alliance. Oliver turned over Harry entirely to Fan, as, no doubt, he might have done in any circumstances, unless the young fellow had been Oliver’s chosen chum and mate as well as Fan’s.