Margaret bowed her head. She thought Sir Wilfred's manner rather singular--he had met her with coldness; there was certainly no trace of warmth, no cordiality in the loose grasp of her hand. She wondered what made him speak in that dry, measured voice, and why, after his first keen glance at her, he had averted his eyes. He looked older than he had done yesterday, and there was a harassed expression in his face. "It is rather strange," he went on, "that Hugh should have left me in ignorance all these months, but that"--as Margaret seemed about to speak--"is between me and him, I do not include you in the blame. On the contrary,"--speaking now with some degree of feeling--"I am sorry for you, Miss Ferrers, for I have come to tell you, what Hugh refuses to do, that I can not consent to my son's marrying you." Margaret started, and the proud indignant color rose to her face; but she restrained herself. "May I ask your reason, Sir Wilfred?" "I have a very good, sufficient reason," returned the old man, sadly; "Hugh is my only son." "I do not understand--" "Perhaps not, and it is my painful task to enlighten you, Miss Ferrers," hesitating a little, "I do not wonder at my son's choice, now I see you; I am quite sure that you are all he represents you to be; that in all respects you are fitted to be the wife of a wealthier man than Hugh. But for my boy's sake I am compelled to appeal to your generosity, your sense of right, and ask you to give him up." "I can not give your son up," returned Margaret, with noble frankness; "I am promised to him, and we love each other dearly." "I know that," and for a moment Sir Wilfred's eyes rested on the beautiful face before him with mingled admiration and pain, and his voice softened insensibly. "My dear, I know how my boy loves you, how his whole heart is centered on you. I can do nothing with him--he will not listen to reason; his passion for you is overmastering, and blinds him to his best interest. I have come to you to help me save him in spite of himself." At this solemn adjuration Margaret's face grew pale, and for the first time her courage forsook her. "I can not bear this," she returned, and her young voice grew thin and sharp. "Why do you not speak plainly and tell me what you mean? Why do you ask me to save Hugh--my Hugh--when I am ready to give up my whole life to him? You speak as if his marriage with me would bring him a curse." "As it most surely would to him and to his children, Miss Ferrers. Margaret--I may call you Margaret, for I knew you as a child--it is no fault of yours if that be the truth. My dear, has no one told you about your mother?"