“Yes, I will give you an answer then,” said Mrs. Dengelton glibly, having quite determined to throw Crispin over, should she meet with a more desirable match for her daughter. Crispin guessed this double dealing, and at once met the feminine plot by a masculine counterplot. “Mrs. Dengelton,” he said solemnly, “I love your daughter, and she loves me. When I return in three months from the East, I will satisfy you on all points you desire to know. If those questions you ask are answered to your complete satisfaction, will you agree to our marriage?” “Yes,” replied Mrs. Dengelton, all the volubility frightened out of her, “I will.” “Then give me your word that during my absence you will not try to induce your daughter to marry any one else.” “I hardly think it is necessary to ask that,” said the lady, with dignity, though in her heart of hearts she knew it was very necessary, as also did Crispin, who still pressed his request. “Perhaps it is not necessary; still I would like your word for it that such a thing will not occur.” “Well, well, I promise,” remarked Mrs. Dengelton peevishly, rising to her feet. “What a pertinacious man you are, Mr. Crispin! Mind, I will not consent to this marriage unless I am thoroughly satisfied about your position, income, and family.” “I will satisfy you on all those points,” rejoined Crispin, with a bow, as he held the door open for her to pass through. “I feel quite upset,” said the good lady, as she hastily departed. “I am sure I don’t know what Maurice will say.” “I do,” thought Crispin, as he closed the door; “he will be delighted. I talk very confidently, but I am doubtful. Position—yes, that is all right, I am a poet; money—well, she can hardly complain of twelve thousand a year, safely invested; family—ah, that is the difficulty! I wonder if I can get the truth out of Justinian, he alone knows. I cannot marry with only one name, but I will have two before I return from Melnos, or else”— He paused, and struck his fist hard against his open hand. “I will force Justinian to tell me,” he muttered between his clinched teeth. “I also hold cards in this game he is playing, and even with him and Caliphronas as adversaries I will win. Maurice Roylands is Justinian’s stake, Helena is the stake of Caliphronas, as he chooses to call himself, but Eunice is mine, and with such a prize to gain I am desperate.” His eyes fell on an open volume of Thomas à Kempis, which Mrs. Dengelton, in strange contrast to her usual worldliness, was fond of reading, and he saw the following sentence:— “Love desires to be aloft, and will not be kept back by anything low and mean.” “I accept the omen,” he said, closing the book slowly. “I desire Eunice, and no lowness or meanness of Justinian and Andros will keep me back. I accept the omen.” CHAPTER XII. THE NEW ARGONAUTS.