“What if you have?” cried out Sir Nelson, growing vexed at the fellow’s amazing stubbornness and lack of decency, as he thought. “What if you have settled a considerable sum on your family? Do you suppose you can leave the bulk of your estate to a dependent girl, a young woman in your employ, without causing no end of evil surmises and comment reflecting on your memory—yes, and the young person’s honor? What can you mean by such a mad determination? Come, be reasonable, I beg of you. Make a suitable provision for this girl, if you think it due her for her faithful service in your family, but, for heaven’s sake, don’t leave the poor child a legacy of defamation, as you most certainly will, if you persist in carrying out such a preposterous course.” “By the time that you come to settle my estate, sir, I shall have become an object too contemptible for even malice to stoop to notice,” replied Fair, poking his stick into the gravel and giving his words the tone that meant that he had thought out all the objections which his old friend had raised. They walked back and forth once or twice before Sir Nelson responded with a laugh, which he tried to make genuine: “My word, what arrant nonsense we have been talking anyhow! Settling your estate, eh? Why, bless us all, I shall have been under the chancel stones twenty years before you retire from business to begin to enjoy middle age in the country. Come, come, dear fellow, pull yourself together, do!” “Ah, my best of friends,” answered Fair, with a voice full of sincerest love and respect, but also of firmness and stem determination. “You ought to know my father’s son better than to suppose that anything can swerve me from a purpose once it has become a fixed idea—but,” he added, suddenly turning to the old man with great tenderness, “by all that is rational, I do suppose that it is unfair to keep you in the dark in this way. I think that I should tell you plainly what is in my heart.” “Depend upon it, Maxwell, it will be best for both of us if you will tell me fully and honestly—everything,” eagerly returned Sir Nelson, slapping Fair on the back in that hearty, old-fashioned way of his. “Come, now, what the devil ails you?” “Well, then, sir,” said Fair, taking Sir Nelson’s arm and pushing him back toward the seat, “sit down while I tell you—I am too nervous to do so.” The old man sat as he was requested, and watched his young friend as he walked up and down before him, formulating his ideas in order to present them clearly and consecutively. It was some time before Fair had so far shaped his thoughts as to be willing to speak. But when he had done so he stopped on his next turn in front of Sir Nelson and said very quietly: