“I do not complain. I must say one thing more, in confidence,” added Dick, glancing at the door; and his face flushed as he spoke. “Though I have never confessed it to you, much less to her, I love your sister Julia. I thank God she knows nothing of it!” “I think she does, Dick. A man’s looks and actions cannot be wholly meaningless. I knew it; so did others.” “So much the worse for me--and for her!” exclaimed Dick, sadly and bitterly. “What is patent to us will be so to others. All the world will believe that I was hiring Buckstone to marry Mary, at the time he was killed--doing it in the dark--and for what? To prevent Eugene Hungerford from marrying her! I confess this was half my thought, for I loved you too well, Hungerford, to see you throw yourself away upon one who, in the eyes of the world, was defiled. It was for your sake, as well as for hers, I made the proposition last night, to which you assented. But what will the world say?” “Never mind what the world says.” “I must be above suspicion. What follows?” “Never mind what follows, Dick. I understand you. Your motives were pure and friendly. You meant to serve me. You were right; I would have made Mary my wife, if the marriage with Buckstone had been illegal.” “It was legal enough, if it could be proved; but there is no certificate, no record, nothing even to prove that any ceremony was performed. Though the man who married them were an impostor, the legality of the union is not thereby affected; but we cannot prove that either of the parties consented, or even that a mock ceremony was performed. If there was any marriage, it was legal; but we can prove nothing, and Buckstone repudiated it--deserted and abandoned the girl. For these reasons it was necessary that Mary should be married again. I thought so, and felt so, and, with your knowledge and consent, intended to have her married again, but not without.” “It is all clear enough, Dick.” “No, it is not. One thing follows another, until it appears that I am laboring to prevent you from carrying out the provisions of your uncle’s will. Hungerford, I know this has never occurred to you.” Eugene was silent. Dr. Bilks opened a book. “Such a thought never darkened your mind, Hungerford,” continued Dick; “but others will say, if I should ever be seen with your sister again, that I”--he struggled with the thought--“that I keep you a bachelor in order to marry half a million with Julia.” “Why should they think so?” “Because it is natural that low-minded and selfish men should suspect the motives of others. Such a thought never occurred to you, Hungerford, but it has made my brain whirl with agony, since we parted on the beach. In what a damnable position am I placed!” Eugene was still silent, and Dr. Bilks did not seem to approve all Dick’s statements and conclusions, for he occasionally turned and twisted in his chair.