“You have a copy of your uncle Porson’s will in that drawer; give it me.” Morris obeyed, and his father searched for, and read the following sentence: “In consideration of the forthcoming marriage between his son Morris and my daughter Mary, the said testator remits all debts and obligations that may be due to his estate by the said Richard Monk, Lieutenant Colonel, Companion of the Bath, and an executor of this will.” “Well,” said Morris. “Well,” replied the Colonel coolly, “those debts in all amounted to £19,543. No wonder you seem astonished, but they have been accumulating for a score of years. There’s the fact, any way, so discussion is no use. Now do you understand? ‘In consideration of the forthcoming marriage,’ remember.” “I shall be rich some day; that machine you laugh at will make me rich; already I have been approached. I might repay this money.” “Yes, and you might not; such hopes and expectations have a way of coming to nothing. Besides, hang it all, Morris, you know that there is more than money in the question.” Morris hid his face in his hands for a moment; when he removed them it was ashen. “Yes,” he said, “things are unfortunate. You remember that you were very anxious that I should engage myself, and Mary was so good as to accept me. Perhaps, I cannot say, I should have done better to have waited till I felt some real impulse towards marriage. However, that is all gone by, and, father, you need not be in the least afraid; there is not the slightest fear that I shall attempt to do anything of which you would disapprove.” “I was sure you wouldn’t, old fellow,” answered the Colonel in a friendly tone, “not when you came to think. Matters seem to have got into a bit of a tangle, don’t they? Most unfortunate that charming young lady being brought to this house in such a fashion. Really, it looks like a spite of what she called Fate. However, I have no doubt that it will all straighten itself somehow. By the way, she told me that she should wish to see you once to say good-bye before she went. Don’t be vexed with me if, should she do so, I suggest to you to be very careful. Your position will be exceedingly painful and exceedingly dangerous, and in a moment all your fine resolutions may come to nothing; though I am sure that she does not wish any such thing, poor dear. Unless she really seeks this interview, I think, indeed, it would be best avoided.” Morris made no answer, and the Colonel went away somewhat weary and sorrowful. For once he had seen too much of his puppet-show. CHAPTER XVI. A MARRIAGE AND AFTER Stella did not appear at dinner that night, or at breakfast next day. In the course of the morning, growing impatient, for he had explanations to make, Morris sent her a note worded thus: “Can I see you?—M. M.” to which came the following answer: “Not to-day. Meet me to-morrow at the Dead Church at three o’clock.—STELLA.” It was the only letter that he ever received from her.