“No, no, no,” he said. “I was thinking of my own, who is as honourable a man as any one. But only--they don’t think it necessary to carry that into trade, Madeline. I don’t mean to say anything I oughtn’t to say. I suppose they don’t go into every detail. They leave a great deal to--clerks and people. Every transaction is not carried on as it would be between two men--of the same social grade--under the eyes of all the world. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t blame my father; but I--couldn’t do it. I could not--I could not. You know you and I have been brought up in another sort of a way. If that is what they meant, they shouldn’t have done it.” “Done what?” she asked. “Well, given themselves the final luxury of children brought up like--like a king’s sons. My father taunted me with having everything that a prince could have had--so I have--and the feelings too----” “Are princes so much superior to other people?” she said, with a faint smile almost of anger. She was more faithful to her caste than he had ever been, priding herself upon being a merchant’s daughter; although, to be sure, she knew nothing about trade--no more than a princess, no more than her lover had done. “Perhaps not,” he said; “but people in trade do strange things--things that you and I wouldn’t do, any more than princes. _They_ don’t think of it. It is not dishonesty, oh no, no--it is only--I can’t condemn my father, much less yours; but I can’t do as they do--I can’t. You must not think I have been hasty. It’s impossible.” There was a little pause. She sat with her head averted, staring into the fire, as people are so apt to do when they want enlightenment. He was seated on a lower seat close to hers, holding her hand, which she did not withdraw from him. His mind was so full of what he was saying, and of the contrariety and new discovery he had made in his own circumstances, that he did not remark that she was taking his revelation with what was at the least some uncertainty--not throwing herself into it as she usually did into his views. “Then I suppose,” she said slowly at last, “that this changes many things--and makes the future perhaps--different.” “Would you have anticipated that?” he said quickly. “I suppose then I must be a fool, for I never expected him to mind.” “Gervase! how could he help minding--after looking forward, ever since you were born, to having you to succeed him, to leaving you--at the head of a great business?” “You seem to sympathise with my father, Madeline, more than with me.” “I do--a little,” said Madeline. “I am sorry for everybody who is disappointed. I don’t wonder if he was vexed. And what then are you going--to do?”