Marsham closed the door behind him, and in the lamplight the two men looked at each other. Marsham's brow was furrowed, his cheeks pale. His eyes, restless and bright, interrogated his old friend. At the first glance Sir James understood. He thrust his hands into his pockets. "You know?" he said, under his breath. Marsham nodded. "And you--have known it all along?" "From the first moment, almost, that I set eyes on that poor child. Does _she_ know? Have you broken it to her?" The questions hurried on each other's heels. Marsham shook his head, and Sir James, turning away, made a sound that was almost a groan. "You have proposed to her?" "Yes." "And she has accepted you?" "Yes." Marsham walked to the mantel-piece, and hung over the fire. Sir James watched him for a moment, twisting his mouth. Then he walked up to his companion and laid a hand on his arm. "Stick it out, Oliver!" he said, breathing quick. "Stick it out! You'll have to fight--but she's worth it." Marsham's hand groped for his. Sir James pressed it, and walked away again, his eyes on the carpet. When he came back, he said, shortly: "You know your mother will resist it to the last?" By this, Marsham had collected his forces, and as he turned to the lamplight, Sir James saw a countenance that reassured him. "I have no hope of persuading her. It will have to be faced." "No, I fear there is no hope. She sees all such things in a false light. Forgive me--we must both speak plainly. She will shudder at the bare idea of Juliet Sparling's daughter as your wife; she will think it means a serious injury to your career--in reality it does nothing of the sort--and she will regard it as her duty to assert herself." "You and Ferrier must do all you can for me," said Marsham, slowly. "We shall do everything we can, but I do not flatter myself it will be of the smallest use. And supposing we make no impression--what then?" Marsham paused a moment; then looked up. "You know the terms of my father's will? I am absolutely dependent on my mother. The allowance she makes me at present is quite inadequate for a man in Parliament, and she could stop it to-morrow." "You might have to give up Parliament?" "I should very likely have to give up Parliament." Sir James ruminated, and took up his half-smoked cigar for counsel. "I can't imagine, Oliver, that your mother would push her opposition to quite that point. But, in any case, you have forgotten Miss Mallory's own fortune." "It has never entered into my thoughts!" cried Marsham, with an emphasis which Sir James knew to be honest. "But, in any case, I cannot live upon my wife. If I could not find something to do, I should certainly give up politics." His tone had become a little dry and bitter, his aspect gray. Sir James surveyed him a moment--pondering.