daughter's
interests to think of, should have made this proposal--"

Lind interrupted him with a slight deprecatory motion of the hand.

"Pardon me," said he. "Let us confine ourselves to business, if you
please."

"I presume it is a man's business to provide for the future of his
wife," said Brand, somewhat hotly, his pride beginning to kick against
this patronizing graciousness of manner.

"I must beg of you, my dear sir," said Mr. Lind, with the same calm
courtesy, "to keep private interests and projects entirely outside of
this matter, which relates to the Society alone, and your duty, and the
wishes of those with whom you are associated. You have decided?--very
well. I am sorry; but you are within your right."

"How can you talk like that?" said Brand, bluntly. "Sorry that your
daughter is not to marry a beggar?"

"I must decline to have Natalie introduced into this subject in any way
whatever," said Mr. Lind.

"Let us drop the subject, then," said Brand, in a friendly way, for he
was determined to have some further enlightenment. "Now about Natalie.
May I ask you plainly if you have any objection to a marriage between
her and myself?"

The answer was prompt and emphatic.

"I have every objection. I have said before that it would be inexpedient
in many ways. It is not to be thought of."

Brand was not surprised by this refusal; he had expected it; he had put
the question as a matter of form.

"Now one other question, Mr. Lind, and I shall be satisfied," said he,
watching the face of the man opposite him with a keen scrutiny. "Was it
ever your intention, at any time, to give your consent to our marriage,
in any circumstances whatever?"

Ferdinand Lind was an admirable actor.

"Is it worth while discussing imaginary things--possibilities only?" he
said, carelessly.

"Because, you see," continued Brand, who was not to be driven from his
point, "any plain and ordinary person, looking from the outside at the
whole affair, might imagine that you had been merely temporizing with
me, neither giving nor refusing your consent, until I had handed over
this money; and that, as you had never intended to let your daughter
marry, that was the reason why you did not care whether I retained a
penny of my own property or not."

Lind did not flinch for an instant; nor was there the slightest trace of
surprise, or annoyance, or resentment in his look. He rose and pushed
back his chair.

"Suppose we let outsiders