"It's as good and proper a letter as any young man could write. All his instincts are honourable. Some men might have written to Lucy herself. Putting aside his lack of family and the other disrepute, we could not wish a better son-in-law than Sir Karl Andinnian." "Yes," deliberated Mrs. Cleeve, after a pause. "True. The disadvantages are great: but they seem little when balanced against the chance of restoring Lucy's life. She will be a baronet's wife; she will be sufficiently rich; and--I think--she will be intensely happy." "Then I'll send for him," said Colonel Cleeve. The interview took place on the following morning. It was a peculiar one. Just as plainly open as Karl had been in his letter, so was the Colonel now. "I think it may be the one chance for saving my child's life," he said; "for there is no denying that she was very much attached to you, Sir Karl. Sitting alone after dinner last evening, I was telling myself that nothing short of a miracle could help her: the doctors say they can do nothing, the malady is on her mind--though for my part I think the chief ill is the weakness left by that ague-fever. Your letter came to interrupt my thoughts; and when I read it I wondered whether that was the miracle." "If you will only give me Lucy, my whole life shall be devoted to her best comfort, sir," he said in a low tone. "My happiness was wrecked equally with hers: but I am a man and therefore stronger to bear." "Nothing would have induced me to give her to you had your brother lived," resumed the Colonel. "If I am too plain in what I say I must beg you to excuse it: but it is well that we should understand each other thoroughly. Yourself I like; I always have liked you; but the disgrace reflected upon you was so great while your brother was living, a convict, that to see Lucy your wife then would I think have killed both me and Mrs. Cleeve. Take it at the best, it would have embittered our lives for ever." "Had my unfortunate brother lived, I should never have attempted to ask for her, Colonel Cleeve." "Right. I have observed that on most subjects your ideas coincide with my own. Rather than that--the disgrace to her and to us; and grievous though the affliction it would have brought to me and her mother--we would rather have laid our child to rest." The deep emotion with which Colonel Cleeve spoke--the generally self-contained man whose calmness almost bordered upon apathy--proved how true the words were, and how terribly the sense of disgrace would have told upon him.