e gave light, fire, and colour to the scene in which
my destiny had been wavering from hand to hand without much more than
amusedly interesting me, for I was sure that I had lost Ottilia; I knew
that too well, and worse could not happen. I had besides lost other
things that used to sustain me, and being reckless, I was contemptuous,
and listened to the talk about money with sublime indifference to the
subject: with an attitude, too, I daresay. But Hermann's name revived my
torment. Why had he come? to persuade the squire to control my father?
Nothing but that would suffer itself to be suggested, though conjectures
lying in shadow underneath pressed ominously on my mind.

My father had no doubts.

'A word to you, Mr. Beltham, before you go to Prince Hermann. He is an
emissary, we treat him with courtesy, and if he comes to diplomatize we,
of course, give a patient hearing. I have only to observe in the most
emphatic manner possible that I do not retract one step. I will have
this marriage: I have spoken! It rests with Prince Ernest.'

The squire threw a hasty glare of his eyes back as he was hobbling on
Janet's arm. She stopped short, and replied for him.

'Mr. Beltham will speak for himself, in his own name. We are not
concerned in any unworthy treatment of Prince Ernest. We protest against
it.'

'Dear young lady!' said my father, graciously. 'I meet you frankly. Now
tell me. I know you a gallant horsewoman: if you had lassoed the
noble horse of the desert would you let him run loose because of his
remonstrating? Side with me, I entreat you! My son is my first thought.
The pride of princes and wild horses you will find wonderfully similar,
especially in the way they take their taming when once they feel they
are positively caught. We show him we have him fast--he falls into our
paces on the spot! For Harry's sake--for the princess's, I beg you exert
your universally--deservedly acknowledged influence. Even now--and you
frown on me!--I cannot find it in my heart to wish you the sweet and
admirable woman of the world you are destined to be, though you would
comprehend me and applaud me, for I could not--no, not to win your
favourable opinion!--consent that you should be robbed of a single ray
of your fresh maidenly youth. If you must misjudge me, I submit. It
is the price I pay for seeing you young and lovely. Prince Ernest is,
credit me, not unworthily treated by me, if life is a battle, and the
prize of it to the G