Of this last incident it may be said that Lightmark and Eve found it altogether delightful, the latter especially being struck by the romance of the situation; while Charles was inclined to be ponderously sentimental, and Miss Masters afterwards confessed to having felt bored.

In the course of the next day Lightmark had the privilege of a confidential interview with the mother of his adored.  Mrs. Sylvester had fully armed herself for the occasion, and presented an edifying example of matronly affection and prudence.

“Of course, I was not altogether unprepared for this, Mr. Lightmark.  In fact, I may as well own that I have talked it over with my son, and we agreed that the whole question resolved itself into—­ah—­into settlements.  You must not think me mercenary.”  This was said with a dignified calm, which made the idea preposterous.  “If you can”—­here she seemed to refer to some mental note-book—­“ah—­satisfy Charles on that point, I am sure that it will give me great pleasure to regard you as a prospective son-in-law.  Of course, you know, I can’t answer for Eve, or Charles.”

“Ah, my dear lady,” said the other, gracefully overwhelmed, “if I may count on your good offices I am very fortunate.”

That evening, as the two men sat discussing their cigars and coffee, Lightmark listened with wonderful patience to a disquisition on the subject of—­he couldn’t afterwards remember whether it was Strikes or the Sugar Bounty.  He was rather afraid of the necessary interview with Charles.  It would require some tact, and he was prepared to find him unpleasantly exacting as arbiter of his pecuniary status.

“You ought to be in the House, by Jove! that’s your line, Sylvester, with a clever wife, you know, to do the canvassing for you” ("and write your speeches,” he mentally added).

The other owned that he had thought of it.

“But the wife,” he added, with an attempt at levity, “that’s the difficulty!”

And the connection of a subsequent remark with this topic, though some conversation intervened, did not escape his astute companion, and he was careful to sing Miss Masters’ praises with an absence of allusiveness, which showed the actor.  Then he threw away the stump of his cigar, and mentally braced himself.

“You have seen a good deal of me lately,” he said.  “I want to ask you if you have any objection to me as a possible brother-in-law; in fact, I want to marry your sister.”

“Yes?” said the other encouragingly.

“I have, as you may know, spoken to Mrs. Sylvester about it, and I believe she will—­that is to say, I think she has no personal objection to me.”

“Oh, of course, my dear fellow, my mother and I are flattered, quite flattered; but you will understand our anxiety that we should run no risk of sacrificing any of the advantages she has enjoyed hitherto.  May I ask, er——­”