"Oh yes." He seemed to arouse himself from a fit of musing. "Yes! I have found a husband for you." Beatrice started. He announced this startling fact as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "You--have--found--a--husband--for--me?" she drawled slowly. "Yes. You won't have my money, and I may die." He cast a look over his shoulder nervously. "I don't want to, but I may: one never knows, do they? You will be poor, so I think it best to get you married and settled in life." "Thank you," she returned icily. "It is very good of you to take so much trouble. And my future husband?" "Ruck! Major Ruck--Major Simon Ruck, a retired army officer, and a handsome man of fifty, very well preserved, and with a fine fortune." "How alluring! And suppose I refuse?" "You can't--you daren't!" He grasped her arm entreatingly. "Don't be a fool, my dear. Ruck is handsome and well off. He is coming down on Saturday to see you. This is Wednesday, so you will have time to think over the matter. You must marry him--you must, I tell you!" and he shook her arm in his agitation. Beatrice removed her arm in a flaming temper. "Must I indeed?" said she, flashing up into righteous anger. "Then I won't!" "Beatrice!" "I won't. I have never seen the man, and I don't wish to see him. You have no right to make any arrangements about my marriage without consulting me. You are neither kith nor kin of mine, and I am of age. I deny your right to arrange my future." "Do you wish to be left to starve?" "I shall not starve; but I would rather do so, than marry a man of fifty, whom I have never set eyes on." "If you don't marry Ruck, you'll be a pauper sooner than you expect, my girl. Marry him for my sake?" "No! You have done as little as you could for me: you have always hated me. I decline." Alpenny rose in his turn--Beatrice had already risen to her feet--and faced her in a black fury, the more venomous for being quiet. "You shall marry him!" "I shall not." They faced one another, both angry, both determined, both bent upon gaining the victory. But if Alpenny had an iron will, Beatrice had youth and outraged womanhood on her side, and in the end his small cruel eyes fell before her flashing orbs. "I want you to marry Ruck--really I do," he whimpered piteously. "Why?" "Because"---- he swallowed something, and told what was evidently a lie, so glibly did it slip out. "Because I should be sorry to leave you to starve." "I shall not starve. I am well educated, and can teach. At the worst I can become a nursery governess, or be a companion." "Better marry Major Ruck." "No. It is foolish of you to ask me." "If you don't marry him I shall be ruined. I shall be killed. No"--he broke off suddenly--"I don't mean that. Who would kill a poor old man such as I am? But"--his voice leaped an octave--"you must marry the husband I chose for you." "I chose for myself."