‘Through you, through you!—­through my father!’

‘Have you both gone mad?’

‘Try to see this,’ I implored him.  ’She will not be subjected by any threats.  The very whisper of one will make her turn from me . . .’

He interrupted.  ’Totally the contrary.  The prince acknowledges that you are master of her affections.’

‘Consistently with her sense of honour and respect for us.’

‘Tell me of her reputation, Richie.’

‘You pretend that you can damage it!’

’Pretend?  I pretend in the teeth of all concerned to establish her happiness and yours, and nothing human shall stop me.  I have you grateful to me before your old dad lays his head on his last pillow.  And that reminds me:  I surrender my town house and furniture to you.  Waddy has received the word.  By the way, should you hear of a good doctor for heart-disease, tell me:  I have my fears for the poor soul.’

He stood up, saying, ’Richie, I am not like Jorian, to whom a lodging-house dinner is no dinner, and an irreparable loss, but I must have air.  I go forth on a stroll.’

It was impossible for me to allow it.  I stopped him.

We were in the midst of a debate as to his right of personal freedom, upon the singularity of which he commented with sundry ejaculations, when Temple arrived and General Goodwin sent up his card.  Temple and I left the general closeted with my father, and stood at the street-door.  He had seen the princess, having at her request been taken to present his respects to her by Janet.  How she looked, what she said, he was dull in describing; he thought her lively, though she was pale.  She had mentioned my name, ‘kindly,’ he observed.  And he knew, or suspected, the General to be an emissary from the prince.  But he could not understand the exact nature of the complication, and plagued me with a mixture of blunt inquiries and the delicate reserve proper to him so much that I had to look elsewhere for counsel and sympathy.  Janet had told him everything; still he was plunged in wonder, tempting me to think the lawyer’s mind of necessity bourgeois, for the value of a sentiment seemed to have no weight in his estimation of the case.  Nor did he appear disinclined to excuse my father.  Some of his remarks partly swayed me, in spite of my seeing that they were based on the supposition of an ‘all for love’ adventure of a mad princess.  They whispered a little hope, when I was adoring her passionately for being the reverse of whatever might have given hope a breath.

General Goodwin, followed by my father, came down and led me aside after I had warned Temple not to let my father elude him.  The General was greatly ruffled.  ‘Clara tells me she can rely on you,’ he said.  ’I am at the end of my arguments with that man, short of sending him to the lock-up.  You will pardon me, Mr. Harry; I foresaw the scrapes in store for you, and advised you.’

‘You did, General,’ I confessed.  ’Will you tell me what it is Prince Ernest is in dread of?’