“It isn’t as if you was a difficult and notorious sort of woman,” explained Job; “for then the man might have reason on his side; but to misunderstand you and overlook your playful touch—­that shows he’s got a low order of brain; because you always speak clearly.  Your word is as good as your bond and none can question your judgment.”

He proceeded to examine the argument earnestly and had just proved that Mrs. Northover was well within her right to set ‘The Seven Stars’ above ‘The Tiger,’ when Raymond Ironsyde entered.

He returned from dining with his aunt, and an interview now concluded was of very painful and far-reaching significance.  For they had not agreed, and Miss Ironsyde proved no more able to convince her nephew than was he, to make her see his purpose combined truest wisdom and humanity.

They talked after dinner and she invited him to justify his conduct if he could, before hearing her opinions and intentions.  He replied at once and she found his arguments and reasons all arrayed and ready to his tongue.  He spoke clearly and stated his case in very lucid language; but he irritated her by showing that his mind was entirely closed to argument and that he was not prepared to be influenced in any sort of way.  Her power had vanished now and she saw how only her power, not her persuasion, had won Raymond before his brother’s death.  He spoke with utmost plainness and did not spare himself in the least.

“I’ve been wrong,” he said, “but I’m going to try and be right in the future.  I did a foolish thing and fell in love with a good and clever girl.  Once in love, of course, everything was bent and deflected to be seen through that medium and I believed that nothing else mattered or ever would.  Then came the sequel, and being powerless to resist, I was going to marry.  For some cowardly reason I funked poverty, and the thought of escaping it made me agree to marry Sabina, knowing all the time it must prove a failure.  That was my second big mistake, and the third was asking her to come and live with me without marrying her.  I suggested that, because I wanted her and felt very keen about the child.  I ought not to have thought of such a thing.  It wasn’t fair to her—­I quite see that.”

“Can anything be fair to her short of marriage?”

“Not from her point of view, Aunt Jenny.”

“And what other point of view, in keeping with honour and religion, exists?”

“As to religion, I’m without it and so much the freer.  I don’t want to pretend anything I don’t feel.  I shall always be very sorry, indeed, for what I did; but I’m not going to wreck my life by marrying Sabina.”

“What about her life?”

“If she will trust her life to me, I shall do all in my power to make it a happy and easy life.  I want the child to be a success.  I know it will grow up a reproach to me and all that sort of thing in the opinion of many people; but that won’t trouble me half as much as my own regrets.  I’ve not done anything that puts me beyond the, pale of humanity—­nor has Sabina; and if she can keep her nerve and go on with her life, it ought to be all right for her, presently.”