“I did not seek it, Mr. Lind. He forced it upon me. I promise you that if a second meeting takes place, it will be forced upon him by me, and will take place in another country.” “That is a young man’s idea, Sholto. The day for such crimes, thank Heaven, is past and gone. Let us say no more of it. I was speaking to your mother on Sunday. Have you seen her yet?” “No.” “Sholto, you hit us all very hard that Monday before Christmas. I know what I felt about my daughter. But I can only imagine what your mother must have felt about her son.” “I am not insensible to that. I has been rather my misfortune than my fault that I have caused you to suffer. If it will gratify you to know that I have suffered deeply myself, and am now, indeed, a broken man, I can assure you that such is the case.” “It is fortunate for us all that matters are not absolutely irremediable. I will so far take you into my confidence as to tell you that I have never felt any satisfaction in Marian’s union with Mr. Conolly. Though he is unquestionably a remarkable man, yet there was a certain degree of incongruity in the match—you will understand me—which placed Marian apart from her family whilst she was with him. I have never entered my daughter’s house without a feeling that I was more or less a stranger there. Had she married you in the first instance, the case would have been different: I wish she had. However, that is past regretting now. What I wish to say is that I can still welcome you as Marian’s husband, even though she will have a serious error to live down; and I shall be no less liberal to her than if her previous marriage had never taken place.” Douglas cleared his throat, but did not speak. “Well?” said Mr. Lind after a pause, reddening. “This is a very painful matter,” said Douglas at last. “As a man of the world, Mr. Lind, you must be aware that I am not bound to your daughter in any way.” “I am not speaking to you as a man of the world. I am speaking as a father, and as a gentleman.” “Doubtless your position as a father is an unfortunate one. I can sympathize with your feelings. But as a gentleman——” “Think of what you are going to say, Sholto. If you speak as a gentleman, you can have only one answer. If you have any other, you will speak as a scoundrel.” The last sentence came irrepressibly to Mr. Lind’s lips; but the moment he had uttered it, he felt that he had been too precipitate. “Sir!” “I repeat, as a scoundrel—if you deny your duty in the matter.” “I decline to continue this conversation with you, Mr. Lind. You know as well as I do that no gentleman is expected or even permitted by society to take as his wife a woman who has lived with him as his mistress.” “No man who betrays a lady and refuses to make her all the reparation in his power can claim to be a gentleman.”