There was at least no seeing of the public blot on her birth when looking on her face.  Nor when thinking of the beauty of her character, in absence or in presence, was there any.  He had mastered distaste to such a degree, that he forgot the assistance he had received from the heiress for enabling him to appreciate the fair young girl.  Money is the imperious requirement of superior station; and more money and more:  in these our modern days of the merchant’s wealth, and the miner’s, and the gigantic American and Australian millionaires, high rank is of necessity vowed, in peril of utter eclipse; to the possession of money.  Still it is, when assured, a consideration far to the rear with a gentleman in whose bosom love and the buzzing world have fought their battle out.  He could believe it thoroughly fought out, by the prolonged endurance of a contest lasting many days and nights; in the midst of which, at one time, the task of writing to tell her of his withdrawal from the engagement, was the cause of his omission to write.

As to her character, he dwelt on the charm of her recovered features, to repress an indicative dread of some intrepid force behind it, that might be unfeminine, however gentle the external lineaments.  Her features, her present aristocratic deficiency of colour, greatly pleased him; her character would submit to moulding.  Of all young ladies in the world, she should be the one to shrink from a mental independence and hold to the guidance of the man ennobling her.  Did she?  Her eyes were reading him.  She had her father’s limpid eyes, and when they concentrated rays, they shot.

‘Have you seen my parents, Mr. Sowerby?’

He answered smilingly, for reassuringly:  ‘I have seen them.’

‘My mother?’

‘From your mother first.  But am I not to be Dudley?’

‘She spoke to you?  She told you?’

‘And yesterday your father—­a second time.’

Some remainder of suspicion in the dealing with members of this family, urged Dudley to say:  ’I understood from them, you were not? . . . that you were quite . . .?’

’I have heard:  I have guessed:  it was recently—­this morning, as it happened.  I wish to go to my mother to-day.  I shall go to her to-morrow.’

‘I might offer to conduct you-now!’

‘You are kind; I have Skepsey.’  She relieved the situation of its cold-toned strain in adding:  ‘He is a host.’

‘But I may come?—­now!  Have I not the right?  You do not deny it me?’

‘You are very generous.’

’I claim the right, then.  Always.  And subsequently, soon after, my mother hopes to welcome you at Cronidge.  She will be glad to hear of your naming of a day.  My father bids me . . . he and all our family.’

‘They are very generous.’

‘I may send them word this evening of a day you name?’

’No, Mr. Sowerby.

‘Dudley?’

‘I cannot say it.  I have to see my parents.’