in your good fortune."

"Dorothy will have it all one of these days--all, all," continued my
cousin, still looking at his feet.

After a long pause, during which Sir George took several libations from
his bowl of toddy, he cleared his throat and said, "So Dorothy is the most
beautiful girl and the richest heiress you know?"

"Indeed she is," I responded, knowing full well what he was leading up to.
Realizing that in spite of me he would now speak his mind, I made no
attempt to turn the current of the conversation.

After another long pause, and after several more draughts from the bowl,
my old friend and would-be benefactor said: "You may remember a little
conversation between us when you were last at Haddon six or seven years
ago, about--about Dorothy? You remember?"

I, of course, dared not pretend that I had forgotten.

"Yes, I remember," I responded.

"What do you think of the proposition by this time?" asked Sir George.
"Dorothy and all she will inherit shall be yours--"

"Stop, stop, Sir George!" I exclaimed. "You do not know what you say. No
one but a prince or a great peer of the realm is worthy of aspiring to
Dorothy's hand. When she is ready to marry you should take her to London
court, where she can make her choice from among the nobles of our land.
There is not a marriageable duke or earl in England who would not eagerly
seek the girl for a wife. My dear cousin, your generosity overwhelms me,
but it must not be thought of. I am utterly unworthy of her in person,
age, and position. No! no!"

"But listen to me, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "Your modesty, which,
in truth, I did not know you possessed, is pleasing to me; but I have
reasons of my own for wishing that you should marry Dorothy. I want my
estates to remain in the Vernon name, and one day you or your children
will make my house and my name noble. You and Dorothy shall go to court,
and between you--damme! if you can't win a dukedom, I am no prophet. You
would not object to change your faith, would you?"

"Oh, no," I responded, "of course I should not object to that."

"Of course not. I knew you were no fool," said Sir George. "Age! why, you
are only thirty-five years old--little more than a matured boy. I prefer
you to any man in England for Dorothy's husband."

"You overwhelm me with your kindness," I returned, feeling that I was
being stranded on a very dangerous shore, amidst wealth and beauty.

"Tut, tut, there's no kindness in it