“About his sister?” asked Mr. Fielding, with a smile. “What does he want to do?” “Did I tell you there was some one who--wanted to marry her?” said Edgar. “Yes, to be sure, that was it; somebody I--he don’t approve of--not a proper match. And he doesn’t know what to do, whether to speak to her, or to wait till she speaks, or whether he has any right to interfere. He is not her father, of course, only her brother, and he is in an utter muddle what to do. And of all the people in the world,” said Edgar, with a little hysterical laugh which sounded like a giggle, “he has asked me.” “Well, that was a very curious choice, though the circumstances so much resemble your own,” said the Rector, with a smile; “what do you think you would do if it were Clare?” “That is just the question I have been asking myself,” said Edgar, embarrassed. “Supposing, for the mere sake of argument, that it was Clare--I have not the remotest conception what I should do.” “With such a suitor as Arthur Arden, for instance? Edgar, never try to take in anybody, for you cannot do it. I feel for you sincerely----” “But stop,” said Edgar; “I never said Arthur Arden had anything to do with it. I never implied----” “You have been perfectly wary and prudent,” said Mr. Fielding; “but I knew Arthur Arden long before you did, and I am quite sure he means to mend his fortune, if he can, by means of Clare. I knew it before you did, Edgar, and that was why I was so grieved to see him here. Now you know it, my dear boy, send him away.” “Why did not you warn me, if you knew?” asked Edgar, surprised. “What was the good? He might have changed his mind, or you might have thought me mistaken, and I did not know Clare’s feelings, or even yours, Edgar; if you had liked him, for instance---- But, my dear fellow, now you have found it out, send him away.” “I know as little about Clare’s feelings as you do,” said Edgar, almost sullenly, feeling that this was really no solution of his difficulties. “Clare, I suppose, is the chief person to be consulted. Should I speak to her? Should I bring matters to a conclusion? Perhaps it might come to nothing if they were let alone.” “Edgar, my advice to you is to make short work,” said the Rector, solemnly, “and send him away.” “That is very easy to say,” said Edgar, “but it takes more trouble in the doing. What, my nearest relative, my heir if I die! How can I turn him out of the house which is almost as much his as mine? So long as I am unmarried, which I am likely to be for some time, he is my heir.” “Then you like him?” said the Rector; “that was what I feared. Of course, if you like him, and Clare likes him, nobody has any right to say a word.” “But I never said I liked him,” said Edgar, pettishly. “Neither love nor hatred seems necessary so far as I am concerned; but could not something be done that would be just without being disagreeable? I don’t like to treat him badly, and yet----”