Everybody thought well of Robin. There
had never been anything against him. Why, not a week ago, one of the
finest soldiers in the army, a field-marshal, a household word in the
homes of England, had button-holed the General to congratulate him on a
speech of Robin's.

"That young man will be a credit to you, Drummond," he had said. "Mark
my words, that young man will be a credit to you."

And the General had been oddly impressed by the opinion, coming from his
old comrade in arms, and one of the finest soldiers that ever stepped.
And, to be sure, he had been trying to set Nelly against Robin all the
days of her life.

When he had come to this point in his meditations he groaned aloud. A
thought had come to him of how little Nelly would be really his, married
to Robin Drummond. He would have no need for the house then. He would
have to dismiss the servants, the old servants of whom he was fond, who
adored him, and go into lodgings. He might keep Pat, perhaps. Even the
dogs would go with Nelly. He would never have his girl any more. The
Dowager would be always there. The Dowager would know better than anyone
how to set up an invisible barrier between Nelly and her father. Why,
since she had been their neighbour things had not been the same. She had
carried Nelly hither and thither, to concerts and At Homes and
picture-galleries and what-not. She talked of presenting her at Court,
with an air of significance which the General loathed. The question in
her eye and smile--the General called it a smirk--the very transparent
question was as to whether it was not better to wait and present Nelly
on her marriage.

When the Dowager was sly she made the General furious. Was his little
girl to be married out of hand to Robin Drummond without being given the
chance to see the world and other men? He asked the question hotly,
pacing up and down the faded Persian rug in his den. Then a chill came
on his heat. He had not been able to keep Nelly from choosing, and she
had chosen unwisely. He had had a dream of himself and young Langrishe
and Nelly and the babies in the big happy house. They would belong to
him--no one would push him away from his girl. They would be together
till they closed his eyes. The thought of it now was like a green oasis
in the desert; but it was a mirage, only a mirage!

And Nelly must not suffer. Langrishe had rejected her--rejected that
sweet thing, confound him! And there was her cousin Robin, patient a