“If she does, just go down town for an hour or so, and bring her along a bracelet when you come back,” was the unsympathetic reply. “Or it might even run to a necklace, but you would better reserve that for a pretty large emergency. Well, go home and think it over.” “I don’t want to think it over. If you will only give your consent on condition that I keep silence, what can I do?” “I don’t see but you’ll have to give in,” smiled Mr Steinherz, “being the man you are, and in your present state of high emotion.” “Unless you meant me to consult my father----?” “Not at all. I have the highest respect for your parents, but I understand they both look at everything from a lofty moral standpoint. They would think it my duty to do about forty million things that I don’t incline to do, and that would tire me. No, my first reason for telling you all of this was that it seemed playing it pretty low down to put you in a position in which some extraordinary chance might spring the family history on you without warning. And, of course, you might object to mix the Plantagenet blood you Mortimers are all so proud of with that of Albret and Hohenstaufen. You feel yourselves on a level with the royal houses of Europe, I believe--even leaving out of account the Continental adventures of your father and uncle, and the new lustre they have shed upon your name?” “May I ask your other reasons?” asked Usk, his blood tingling at the tone of genial sarcasm. It was clear that Mr Steinherz did not share Mr Hicks’s enthusiasm over Count Mortimer’s marriage. “There’s only one, but I won’t tell you that right now. You see this envelope? I will seal it and direct it to you, and you can open it this day six months, or at my death. The enclosure will explain itself.” Usk put the envelope into his pocket, struck by the change in his host’s manner, but the momentary gloom passed quickly.