should know what the thing was. Now
that I do know, it seems to me that you are as much concerned as any
one; and that it is not reasonable, it is not possible, I should refrain
from seeing you and consulting you."

"No one shall prevent your seeing me, when it is your wish," said the
girl, in a low voice.

"This, then, is the point: you know enough about the Society to
understand, and there is no particular secret. Your father wishes me to
enter the higher grade of officers, under the Council; and the first
condition is that one surrenders up every farthing of one's property."

"Yes?"

He stared at her. Her "Yes?"--with its affectionate interest and its
absolute absence of surprise--was almost the exact equivalent of Lord
Evelyn's "Well?"

"Perhaps you would advise me to consent?" he said, almost in the way of
a challenge.

"Ah, no," she said, with a smile. "It is not for me to advise on such
things. What you decide for yourself, that will be right."

"But you don't understand, my darling. Supposing I were ambitious of
getting higher office, which I am not; supposing I were myself willing
to sell my property to swell the funds of the Society--and I don't think
I should be willing in any case--do you think I would part with what
ought to belong to my wife--to you, Natalie? Do you think I would have
you marry a beggar--one dependent on the indulgence of people unknown to
him?"

And now there was a look of real alarm on the girl's face.

"Ah!" she said, quickly. "Is not that what my father feared? You are
thinking of me when you should think of others. Already I--I--interfere
with your duty; I tempt you--"

"My darling, be calm, be reasonable. There is no duty in the matter;
your father acknowledges that himself. It is a proposal I am free to
accept or reject, as I please; and now I promise you that, as you won't
give me any advice, I shall decide without thinking of you at all. Will
that satisfy you?"

She remained silent for a second or two, and then she said
thoughtfully,

"Perhaps you could decide just as if there were no possibility of my
ever being your wife?"

"To please you, I will assume that too."

Then she said, after a bit,

"One word more, dearest; you must grant me this--that I may always be
able to think of it when I am alone and far from you, and be able to
reassure myself: it is the promise I thought I could do so well without.
Now you will give it me?"

"What promise?"

"That wh