uation has been going from bad to worse,--and I have said
nothing--hoping always to find some way out. But now it is precisely my
fear that--if we can't discover it--you will find yourself, without
preparation, ruined on the threshold of life, which drives me to tell
you everything. Your head is a cleverer one than mine. You may think of
something. It is of course the coal-mining that has come to grief, and
dragged in all the rest. I have been breaking down with anxiety. And
you, my poor boy!--I remember you said when we met last, that you hoped
to marry soon--perhaps this year--and go into Parliament. I am afraid
all that is at an end, unless you can find a girl with money, which of
course you ought to have no difficulty in doing, with your advantages.

"But it is no good writing. Come to-morrow, and wire your train.

"Your loving father,
ARTHUR FALLODEN."

"'Ruined on the threshold of life'--what does he mean?"--thought
Falloden impatiently. "Father always likes booky phrases like that. I
suppose he's been dropping a thousand or two as he did last
year--hullo!"

As he stood by the window, he perceived the Hoopers' parlourmaid coming
up Beaumont Street and looking at the numbers on the houses. He ran out
to meet her, and took a note from her hand.

"I will send or bring an answer. You needn't wait." He carried it into
his own room, and locked the door before opening it.

* * * * *

"Dear Mr. Falloden,--Mr. Sorell has just been here. He left Mr. Radowitz
at a nursing home after seeing the surgeons. It is all terrible. The
hand is badly poisoned. They hope they may save it, but the injuries
will make it impossible for him ever to play again as he has done. He
may use it again a little, he may compose of course, but as a performer
it's all over. Mr. Sorell says he is in despair--and half mad. They will
watch him very carefully at the home, lest he should do himself any
mischief. Mr. Sorell goes back to him to-morrow. He is himself
broken-hearted.

"I am very, very sorry for you--and for Lord Meyrick,--and everybody.
But I can't get over it--I can't ever forget it. There is a great deal
in what you said this afternoon. I don't deny it. But, when it's all
said, I feel I could never be happy with you; I should be always afraid
of you--of your pride and your violence. And love mustn't be afraid.

"This horrible thing seems to have opened my eyes. I am o