‘Oh, nothing--nothing,’ said Crauford, rather startled by the sudden apparition. ‘Good-morning, Mr. Barclay; pray sit down.’ The lawyer was as inquisitive as a woman, and he complied immediately. ‘Pardon me,’ he said, ‘but I can hardly believe that. I sincerely hope it is nothing very serious.’ ‘It is nothing that can be helped,’ said Fordyce hurriedly; ‘only a difficulty that I am in.’ ‘Then I may have arrived in the nick of time,’ said Barclay. ‘Please remember it is my function to help people out of difficulties. Come, come--courage.’ He spoke with a familiarity of manner which Crauford might have resented had he been less absorbed in his misfortunes. He had an overwhelming longing to confide in someone. ‘What does the proverb say? “Two heads are better than one,” eh, Mr. Fordyce?’ Crauford looked at him irresolutely. ‘I need hardly tell you that I shall be silent,’ said the lawyer in his most professional voice. Fordyce had some of the instincts of a gentleman, and he hesitated a little before he could make up his mind to mention Cecilia’s name to a stranger like Barclay, but he was in such dire straits that a sympathizer was everything to him, and the fact that his companion knew so much of his uncle’s affairs made confidence seem safe. Besides which, he was not a quick reader of character. ‘You need not look upon me as a stranger,’ said the lawyer; ‘there is nothing that your uncle does not tell me.’ This half-truth seemed so plausible to Crauford that it opened the floodgates of his heart. ‘You know Miss Raeburn, of course,’ he began. Barclay bowed and dropped his eyes ostentatiously. The action seemed to imply that he knew her more intimately than anyone might suppose. ‘She is a very exceptional young lady. I had made up my mind to propose to her.’ ‘She has not a penny,’ broke in Barclay. ‘That is outside the subject,’ replied Fordyce, with something very much like dignity. ‘I wrote to my father, telling him of my intention, and yesterday I got his consent. He told me to expect a most liberal allowance, Mr. Barclay.’ ‘Naturally, naturally; in your circumstances that would be a matter of course.’ ‘I thought it best to have Lady Eliza’s permission before doing anything further. I was right, was I not, sir?’ ‘You acted in a most gentlemanly manner.’ ‘I went to Morphie. Lady Eliza was cool with me, I thought. I confess I expected she would have shown some--some----’ ‘Some gratification--surely,’ finished Barclay. ‘I took my father’s letter with me, and unfortunately, I had also one in my pocket from my mother. It was not quite like my father’s in tone; in fact, I am afraid it was written under considerable--excitement. I think she had some other plan in her mind for me. At any rate I took it out, mistaking it for the other, and gave it to her ladyship to read. Mr. Barclay, it was terrible.’ The lawyer was too anxious to stand well with his companion to venture a smile.