_Mr. Toovey (reading)._ "With what a mixture of indescribable emotions did I find myself actually standing upon the very brink ----" (_To himself, as he puts the volume down_) It's no use, I can't concentrate my mind on Palestine to-night, I can't forget this horrible "Eldorado." Ever since I got that official warrant, or demand, or whatever it was, yesterday, I've been haunted by the name. It seems to meet me everywhere; even on the very hoardings! Why, _why_ didn't I invest Aunt ELIZA'S legacy in consols, as CORNELIA told me, instead of putting it into a gold-mine? I think LARKINS said it was a _gold_-mine. If only I had never met him that day last year--but he seemed to think he was doing me such a favour in letting me have some of his shares at all; he'd been allotted more than he wanted, he told me, and he was so confident the Company was going to be a success that I--and now, after hearing nothing all this time, I'm suddenly called upon to pay a hundred and seventy-five pounds, and that's only for one half year, as far as I can make out.... How can I draw a cheque for all that without CORNELIA finding out? I never dared tell her, and she overlooks all my accounts. Why did I, who have never been a follower after Mammon, fall so easily into that accursed mine? I am no business man. All the time I was a partner in that floorcloth factory, I never interfered in the conduct of it, beyond signing my name occasionally--which was all they allowed me to do--and they took the earliest opportunity of buying me out. And yet I must needs go and speculate with Aunt ELIZA'S five hundred pounds, and--what is worse--lose every penny, and more! I, a Churchwarden, looked up to by every member of an Evangelical congregation, the head of a household like this!... How shall I ever tell CORNELIA? And yet I must--I never had a secret from her in my life. I shall know no peace till I have confessed all. I _will_ confess--this very night--when we are alone. If I could speak to CHARLES first, or to that young Mr. CURPHEW--they will both be here to supper--and CHARLES is in a Solicitor's office. But my nephew is too young, and Mr. CURPHEW, though he _is_ a journalist, is wise and serious beyond his years--and if, as CORNELIA thinks, he is beginning to feel a tenderness for ALTHEA, why, it might cause him to reconsider his---- No, I can't tell anyone but my wife. (_Sounds are heard in the hall._) There they are!--they are back from Church--already! (_He catches up his book._) I must try to be calm. She must not notice anything at present! _Mrs. T. (outside)._ I've left my things downstairs, PH[OE]BE; you can take them up to my room. (_Entering._) Well, Pa, I hope you feel less poorly than you did, after your quiet evening at home? _Mr. T. (flurried)._ Yes, my love, yes. I--I've had a peaceful time with _Peregrinations in Palestine_. A--a most absorbing book, my love.