"He came the night before last," she said, "and asked to speak privately with me. I could not refuse him; it appeared to me as if my refusal to appease his natural curiosity had aroused suspicions which might be fatal to my daughter's happiness. He spoke very kindly, but very firmly. Considering the relations in which we stood to each other, he had come to a decision which it was right should be communicated to me. Before doing so he would ask me a question or two to which he expected frank answers. He asked me how long I had known your family. I replied, about two weeks. Had I any previous knowledge of them? I said no. Through whom had I become acquainted with them? I said, through you. He then asked who and what you were; I told him, trembling all the time, because his questions were leading straight to the secret I was hiding from him. Had I any previous knowledge of you, he asked; were you related to me in any way? I answered that you were not related to me, and that I had made your acquaintance only since my arrival in London. Were you acquainted with the cause of my trouble, he asked. I said yes, you were, and that you were endeavoring to befriend me. He reflected a little before he continued, and when he spoke it was in the same kind and gentle voice, but more firmly than before. 'It amounts to this,' he said, 'that you have a secret which has brought grief upon you, and that you confide this secret to a stranger and deny it to me. I draw from this a reasonable inference--that you have a trouble of a private nature which you are deliberately concealing from those who have a right, if anyone has the right, to share it with you. Is it a pecuniary trouble?' I answered that it was not, and he said that he regretted it, as then it might be easily got over. He then referred to the conversation we had in Geneva, when he came to speak to me about Julian's attachment to my dear child, and to a remark he had made that the time would arrive when it would be necessary that he should become acquainted with certain particulars of my past life. My heart fainted within me when he bluntly inquired whether my secret was in any way connected with my past history. I could make but one reply, yes. 'Do you not see,' he said, 'that you are creating suspicions in my mind, and that I am beginning to ask myself whether I should be doing my duty as a father if I allowed the engagement between our children to continue? Be advised for your own sake, for theirs. Tell me everything; accord to me at least the privileges you have accorded to a stranger. I have the reputation of being a just man, and I know that I have none but kindly feelings toward you. There are difficulties, I admit, in many human lives which need the skill of a strong man to surmount. I place my knowledge of the world and my goodwill at your service, and if you refuse to avail yourself of them your conduct will inspire me with very grave doubts.' Thus driven, what could I do? It seemed to me that