Margaret shook her head. She saw that her brother was excited, and determined to keep cool. To try him, she changed the subject. ‘How pretty the Princess looked. I suppose the greyheaded gentleman with her was her father, the King of Denmark?’ ‘Yes--but Miss Vere! How beautifully she spoke those lines at the mouth of the cave!’ ‘I liked her best in the earlier portions of the play,’ returned Margaret quietly. ‘I have a prejudice against seeing women dressed up in male attire. I suppose she is a modest woman, but--by the way, James, she seemed to recognise you? Do you know her?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You cannot have met her in society?’ ‘I was introduced to her by her guardian, White, the dramatic author. We have been acquainted for some time.’ ‘Indeed!’ said Margaret, more coldly than ever. She drew back her chair, and rose to go. ‘I am very tired. I think I will say good-night.’ ‘Don’t go yet,’ exclaimed Forster. ‘I--I want to talk to you.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘About Miss Vere.’ Then he continued, nervously and hurriedly, ‘I have not only a great respect for her, Margaret, but a stronger feeling. I should have spoken to you concerning her before, but I had certain reasons for keeping silence. Now I think you ought to know everything. I have asked her to marry me.’ Margaret Forster gazed at her brother in horror. Her face went ghastly pale, and she felt as if a sharp knife had stabbed her to the heart. ‘You cannot be serious!’ she cried. ‘Quite serious!’ ‘My dear James, you are joking with me. I will never believe you capable of such folly.’ ‘You think it is folly to marry again?’ ‘That is for you to determine, James; but whenever you marry, you will at least marry a lady.’ Forster’s face darkened. ‘He knew his sister’s strong prepossessions on certain subjects, but he hardly expected so decided an opposition, ‘Listen to me, Margaret,’ he said firmly; ‘and before we go further let me beseech you, for my sake, to refrain from saying anything offensive concerning Miss Vere. Understand me clearly. I love her--deeply, passionately; and with a man at my age, love means the highest sort of respect. She is as far my superior in every gift of nature as I, perhaps, am hers in worldly position.’ He paused, but Margaret made no sign. She kept her cold eyes fixed upon his face, as if fascinated by the horror of a degrading confession; but her pulses temperately kept time, and her self-control was perfect. Then he continued:--