“I don’t know that it’s all against you. Perhaps there is something in what you say. I always thought a British merchant---- But perhaps the times have changed since that. And I never looked on business with that sort of eye before. I am glad,” she said a little feebly, with an effort, “that you can make--such a sacrifice--for your conscience, Gervase.” “You must have had a poor opinion of my conscience, Madeline.” She made no reply to this, but with a sudden exclamation, cried, “I foresee we shall have dreadful trouble! I suppose you have never thought of my father, Gervase?” Their eyes met, and the dismay in each was so ludicrous to the other, that the immediate result was one of those fits of laughter in which many a moment of youthful despair has culminated. “You look such a picture of despair!” she cried. And he was fain to laugh too, though with a deeply burdened mind. CHAPTER III. As Gervase left the house Mr Thursley came in, and they exchanged a few words on the stairs, to the distant sound of which Madeline listened with considerable anxiety. Her father had a position in the matter which her lover had not thought of. But she, who knew him better, was very well aware that he would permit no such rash marriage as Gervase suggested. Mr Thursley, like his class, believed in money. He had no confidence in the vague hopes of romantic youth; and how his opinion of Gervase would be affected by the young man’s new resolution, his daughter scarcely liked to inquire. He had not at any time entertained a high opinion of Gervase, so far as sense and stability went. He had disapproved his education wholly, though he had himself given a sort of parallel education to his own child. It was his opinion that it did not matter about a woman, but that a man should be brought up to his business, without any nonsense about it. In all likelihood, had he possessed a son, he would have yielded like Mr Burton to the temptation of giving that son the best of everything, and himself the pride of knowing that no gentleman’s son in England was more highly trained. But Mr Thursley had not been exposed to this temptation, and he thought he would have been superior to it. It was only half-a-dozen words which passed between him and his intended son-in-law, and then Madeline, breathless, listened to his heavy step coming up-stairs. She would have to tell him everything that had been told to her--and how would he take it? Would he put his veto immediately upon the union? Would he forbid her to think of Gervase more? This was quite possible, Madeline knew. Being herself, however, a young woman of the nineteenth century, and quite indisposed to give up the will which had been so carefully developed and cultivated, she also knew that if prohibition was possible, obedience was not, and that some means of reconciling matters must be the present aim of all her thoughts. She was far from having any rebellious inclination to defy her father. It would be painful to her