“Well, Dr. Staines, I will not beat about the bush with you.  My judgment is still against this marriage; you need not look so alarmed; it does not follow I shall forbid it.  I feel I have hardly a right to, for my Rosa might be in her grave now but for you; and, another thing, when I interfered between you two I had no proof you were a man of ability; I had only your sweetheart’s word for that; and I never knew a case before where a young lady’s swan did not turn out a goose.  Your rare ability gives you another chance in the professional battle that is before you; indeed, it puts a different face on the whole matter.  I still think it premature.  Come now, would it not be much wiser to wait, and secure a good practice before you marry a mere child?  There! there!  I only advise; I don’t dictate; you shall settle it together, you two wiseacres.  Only I must make one positive condition.  I have nothing to give my child during my lifetime; but one thing I have done for her; years ago I insured my life for six thousand pounds; and you must do the same.  I will not have her thrown on the world a widow, with a child or two, perhaps, to support, and not a farthing; you know the insecurity of mortal life.”

“I do!  I do!  Why, of course I will insure my life, and pay the annual premium out of my little capital, until income flows in.”

“Will you hand me over a sum sufficient to pay that premium for five years?”

“With pleasure.”

“Then I fear,” said the old gentleman, with a sigh, “my opposition to the match must cease here.  I still recommend you to wait; but—­there!  I might just as well advise fire and tow to live neighbors and keep cool.”

To show the injustice of this simile, Christopher Staines started up with his eyes all aglow, and cried out, rapturously, “Oh, sir, may I tell her?”

“Yes, you may tell her,” said Lusignan, with a smile.  “Stop—­what are you going to tell her?”

“That you consent, sir.  God bless you!  God bless you!  Oh!”

“Yes, but that I advise you to wait.”

“I’ll tell her all,” said Staines, and rushed out even as he spoke, and upset a heavy chair with a loud thud.

“Ah! ah!” cried the old gentleman in dismay, and put his fingers in his ears—­too late.  “I see,” said he, “there will be no peace and quiet now till they are out of the house.”  He lighted a soothing cigar to counteract the fracas.

“Poor little Rosa! a child but yesterday, and now to encounter the cares of a wife, and perhaps a mother.  Ah! she is but young, but young.”

The old gentleman prophesied truly; from that moment he had no peace till he withdrew all semblance of dissent, and even of procrastination.

Christopher insured his life for six thousand pounds, and assigned the policy to his wife.  Four hundred pounds was handed to Mr. Lusignan to pay the premiums until the genius of Dr. Staines should have secured him that large professional income, which does not come all at once, even to the rare physician, who is Capax, Efficax, Sagax.