That such an ordeal would be of a sufficiently crucial nature was indubitable, yet not more so than the confidence with which it was proposed. If the least glimmer of doubt as to the genuineness of the Shakespearean MSS. still reigned in the antiquary’s mind the voice and manner of his son as he spoke those words would have dispelled it. The immaturity of the two young people was not much altered for the better since Mr. Erin had cited it as a bar to their union, but, under the circumstances now suggested, their position would be very materially improved. A play at Drury Lane in those days meant money in pocket; a successful play was a small fortune, and might even be a large one. He would have greatly preferred to have this precious MS., like the others, for nothing, but, after all, what was demanded of him was better than being asked to give hard cash for a pig in a poke. It was only a promise to pay upon conditions which would make the payment comparatively easy. ‘If “Vortigern and Rowena“ is successful,’ continued William Henry with the quiet persistence of a carpenter who strikes the same nail on the head, ‘it must be understood that I have permission to marry Margaret as soon as she pleases.’ Poor Mr. Erin looked appealingly at his niece. ‘You will surely not be so indelicate,’ his glance seemed to say, ‘as to wish to precipitate a matter of this kind?’ But he looked in vain. She did not, it is true, say, ‘I will though;’ there was even a blush on her cheek, which might have seemed to flatter his expectations: but she kept silence, which in such a case it was impossible to construe otherwise than as consent. Some old gentlemen would have hereupon felt themselves justified in saying that ‘young women were not so forward in their time,’ or ‘that such conduct was in their experience unprecedented,’ a reflection, to judge by the frequency with which it is indulged in under similar circumstances, that would seem to give some sort of consolation; but the antecedents of Mr. Samuel Erin were unhappily, as we have hinted, not of a sufficiently ascetic nature to enable him to use this solace. ‘Perhaps you would like to read the play?’ suggested William Henry. ‘Very much,’ replied the antiquary with eagerness. ‘Just as you please, Mr. Erin. It is yours of course, upon the understanding, supposing it to realise expectation, that we have your consent to our marriage.’ ‘Very good,’ replied the antiquary, without any eagerness at all, and in a tone which (had such a substitution been feasible) would have better suited with ‘Very bad.’ CHAPTER XXIII. AN UNEXPECTED ALLY. [Illustration]