"Never! I thought I could help him. But my heart has not even stirred." "You did not seem unhappy." "I was not unhappy. It always gives me pleasure to help people. And Catherine seemed so bright, and Mrs. Bertram so delighted, and Loftus himself--there was much to win my regard in Loftus. I did not know it was only my money they wanted." "Poor child! And yet you are wrong. No one who looks at you, Beatrice, can only want you for your money." "Dear Rector, in this case my money was the charm. Well, my money shall still have power. You are my guardian as well as my trustee. I want you to help me. You can, you must. I will take no denial. Loftus and I have had a long, long talk this afternoon. I have found at last the very bottom of Bertram's heart. He came to me to save him, and I am determined to be his deliverer. One quarter of my fortune I give to Loftus Bertram, and he shall marry Nina, and his debts shall be paid, and his mother relieved from the dreadful strain of anxiety she is now undergoing, and Loftus and Nina shall be happy and good. Oh, yes, I know they will be good as well as happy. You will help me, Rector, you will, you must." "Beatrice, you are the most quixotic, extraordinary, unworldly, unpractical creature that ever breathed. What sort of guardian should I be if I listened to so mad a scheme? What right has Loftus Bertram to one farthing of your money, without you?" "He can't have it with me, Rector. I would not marry him now at any price." "Then he must do without the money." "No, he must have the money. Steps must be taken to secure it to him at once, and he must keep his wedding-day with Nina instead of me. Nina shall have my trousseau; we are exactly of one height--You have got to change the name in the marriage license. If that is impossible there shall be a special license. I am rich, I can pay for it. Oh, the joy that sometimes money brings!" "My dear ward, you are a little off your head to-night. How could you possibly expect your guardian to be such a faithless old man." "Faithless? Mr. Ingram, have you quite forgotten my father?" "No, Beatrice, I remember him to-night." "Let his face rise before you. Picture his face--his unworldly face." "I see it, Beatrice. Yes, Meadowsweet was not cankered by the sordid cares of life." "Truly he was not? Go on thinking about him. He made money. How did he spend it?" "My dear child, your father was a very good man. His charities were extraordinary and extensive. He gave away, hoping for nothing in return; he was too liberal, I often told him so." "You were his clergyman and you told him so." A flash of indignation came out of Beatrice Meadowsweet's eyes. "I don't think, Mr. Ingram, that a Greater than you has ever said that to my father." "Well, child, perhaps not. You reprove me, perhaps justly. Few of us have your father's unworldly spirit." "Don't you think his only daughter may inherit a little of it? Mr. Ingram, what is money for?"