'I suppose we cannot very well talk here, after all?' said the gentleman, when they reached the yard, and found several men moving about therein. 'Perhaps we had better go to some room--the nearest inn will answer the purpose, won't it?' 'Excellently.' 'There's the "Green Bushes" over the way. They have a very nice private room upstairs.' 'Yes, that will do.' And passing out of the yard, the man with the glance entered the inn with Sol, where they were shown to the parlour as requested. While the waiter was gone for some wine, which Mountclere ordered, the more ingenuous of the two resumed the conversation by saying, awkwardly: 'Yes, Mrs. Petherwin is my sister, as you supposed, sir; but on her account I do not let it be known.' 'Indeed,' said Mountclere. 'Well, I came to see you in order to speak of a matter which I thought you might know more about than I do, for it has taken me quite by surprise. My brother, Lord Mountclere, is, it seems, to be privately married to Mrs. Petherwin to-morrow.' 'Is that really the fact?' said Sol, becoming quite shaken. 'I had no thought that such a thing could be possible!' 'It is imminent.' 'Father has told me that she has lately got to know some nobleman; but I never supposed there could be any meaning in that.' 'You were altogether wrong,' said Mountclere, leaning back in his chair and looking at Sol steadily. 'Do you feel it to be a matter upon which you will congratulate her?' 'A very different thing!' said Sol vehemently. 'Though he is your brother, sir, I must say this, that I would rather she married the poorest man I know.' 'Why?' 'From what my father has told me of him, he is not--a more desirable brother-in-law to me than I shall be in all likelihood to him. What business has a man of that character to marry Berta, I should like to ask?' 'That's what I say,' returned Mountclere, revealing his satisfaction at Sol's estimate of his noble brother: it showed that he had calculated well in coming here. 'My brother is getting old, and he has lived strangely: your sister is a highly respectable young lady.' 'And he is not respectable, you mean? I know he is not. I worked near Enckworth once.' 'I cannot say that,' returned Mountclere. Possibly a certain fraternal feeling repressed a direct assent: and yet this was the only representation which could be expected to prejudice the young man against the wedding, if he were such an one as the visitor supposed Sol to be--a man vulgar in sentiment and ambition, but pure in his anxiety for his sister's happiness. 'At any rate, we are agreed in thinking that this would be an unfortunate marriage for both,' added Mountclere. 'About both I don't know. It may be a good thing for him. When do you say it is to be, sir--to-morrow?' 'Yes.'