"Ah, but have you sufficiently considered what you are doing--what risks you may be running in proffering to marry a nameless girl--for how can I be sure what my name really is?--about whose parentage and antecedents you know absolutely nothing? For aught you or I can tell to the contrary, there may be some dreadful disgrace hanging over my birth, or attaching itself in some way to those who have thought well to cast me off. Think what it would be if, after your marriage, something should come to light which would make you ashamed of your wife, something which would cause you to wish you had never met her! That would be enough to make her sorry she had ever been born, while, as for you----" She ceased, her sensitive lips quivering almost imperceptibly, while a tear shone in the corner of each of her eyes. Again Clement smiled. "My dearest, are you not making a mountain out of a molehill?" he said. "It is a way your sex sometimes has. For my own part, I do not for one moment suppose that there is any disgrace, as you choose to term it, connected with your birth or parentage, or any secret which, if made known to the world to-morrow, you would have the slightest cause to be ashamed of. Such cases as yours are by no means so infrequent as you seem to think, and the explanation, when one is forthcoming, is usually of a very commonplace kind indeed. My advice to you is, to think as little as may be about that which Mr. Brancker has deemed it his duty to tell you--in fact, to treat it as though you had never heard it. You shake your head. Well, then, to adopt for the moment your own extreme view of the matter, do you, can you think that whatever may happen, whatever secret the future may bring to light, such a revelation can or will influence my love in the slightest degree, or make me care for you one jot less than I care for you now? If you do think so, you must indeed have a contemptible opinion of me." "No, no," protested Hermia; "indeed I have no such opinion of you. You know differently from that. If such were the case, is is likely that I should have given you"---- A blush finished the sentence. "The greatest treasure a woman can bestow on a man," said Clem, as if he knew exactly what she would have said. "No, it is not likely--indeed, quite the reverse. All which merely brings us round to the point we started from. As I said at first, it would have mattered little or nothing, as far as I am concerned, if you had never told me all this. So now, to change the subject----" His way of changing the subject was to encircle her waist with his arm. "But about the money," said Hermia, two or three minutes later, as she stood before the chimney-glass, trying to put her hair to rights, which, owing to some accident, had become considerably disarranged--"about the twelve hundred pounds. Was I not right in acting as I did?"