"My dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "shall I speak for you? You do not like to say what you have come to say. Shall I speak for you? This is it, is it not? You have become aware of that entanglement that Natalie has got into. Very well. Perhaps she has told you. Perhaps she has told you also that I have forbidden her to have any communication with--well, let us speak frankly--Mr. Brand. Very well. You go with her to the South Kensington Museum; you meet Mr. Brand there. Naturally you think if that comes to my ears I shall suspect you of having planned the meeting; and you would rather come and assure me that you had nothing to do with it. Is it so?" "My dear friend," said Madame Potecki, quickly, "I did not come to you about myself at all! What am I? What matters what happens to an old woman like me? It is not about myself, it is about Natalie that I have come to you. Ah, the dear, beautiful child!--how can one see her unhappy, and not try to do something? Why should she be unhappy? She is young, beautiful, loving; my dear friend, do you wonder that she has a sweetheart?--and one who is so worthy of her, too: one who is not selfish, who has courage, who will be kind to her. Then I said to myself, 'Ah, what a pity to have father and daughter opposed to each other!' Why might not one step in and say, 'Come, and be friends. You love each other: do not have this coldness that makes a young heart so miserable!'" She had talked quickly and eagerly at last; she was trembling with excitement, she had her eyes fixed on his face to catch the first symptom of acquiescence. But, on the contrary, Mr. Lind remained quite impassive, and he said, coldly, "This is a different matter altogether, Madame Potecki. I do not blame you for interfering; but I must tell you at once that your interference is not likely to be of much use. You see, there are reasons which I cannot explain to you, but which are very serious, why any proposal of marriage between Mr. Brand and Natalie is not to be entertained for a moment. The thing is quite impossible. Very well. She knows this; she knows that I wish all communication between them to cease; nevertheless, she says she will see him every day until he goes. How can you wonder that she is unhappy? Is it not her own doing?" "If she was in reality my child, that is not the way I would speak," said the little woman, boldly. "Unfortunately, my dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, blandly, "I cannot, as I say, explain to you the reasons which make such a marriage impossible, or you yourself would say it was impossible. Very well, then. If you wish to do a service to your friend Natalie--if you wish to see her less unhappy, you know what advice to give her. A girl who perseveres in wilful disobedience is not likely to be very contented in her mind."