ingness. All girls made a pretence. Let Antony stand
up to her like a man, and she would give in; be glad to give in. Summon
Antony! Summon the girl! Let them be brought before him. Let this
matter be settled once for all!

Trembling, Mrs Maplestone obeyed his orders. Trembling, Juliet obeyed,
and stood beside the patient's bed. Antony was not trembling, but his
cheek was pale. Crimson cheeked, bright of eye, the patient made his
pronouncement: He had waited long enough; he could wait no longer;
within the next few days he intended to die--probably to-morrow, or the
day after; but before he died he wished to see his heir married to the
woman of his choice. Send instantly for a priest!

"My dear uncle," Antony protested, "the thing's impossible. Even if--
even if--There are preliminaries. Banns. Licences. It is a case of
weeks; of _several_ weeks--"

But the Squire knew better. There were such things as special licences.
When money was no object, when life and death hung in the balance,
mountains had been, mountains could again be, removed. With a shaking
hand he beckoned Juliet to his side, and levied a shocking question:

"Girl, do you wish to kill me?"

"You don't understand, you don't understand!" wailed the unhappy girl.
"Dear Mr Maplestone, try to be quiet; try not to worry about us. Only
get better, and then--then--"

"I shall never get better," reiterated the Squire. His small bright
eyes glittered with a sudden suspicion. "Is he playing with you?
Playing fast and loose, to suit his own convenience? Has he been unkind
to you, cold, disappointing? Are you tired already of the fellow?"

"Oh, no, oh, no, you _don't_ understand! Dear Mr Maplestone, do leave
it until you are stronger."

The crimson of the Squire's cheeks turned to a deeper hue, a spasm of
pain contorted his lips, his eyes rolled, closed, opened again, and
turned with a dreadful intensity upon his nephew.

"I'm dying!" he cried. "You are killing me between you. _Antony_!"

Then Antony stepped forward and took Juliet by the hands. White to the
lips was he, but there was no flinching in his eyes, no tremor in the
tone of his strong voice.

"_My darling_," said Antony, "_will you marry me this week_? As God is
my witness, it is my dearest wish. As God is my witness, I will make
you happy."

At the opposite side of the bed Mrs Maplestone subsided helplessly into
tears. Writhing, gasping in pain, the Squire muttered