free."

"Go on," says the professor.

"I needn't go on. You know it now, if you didn't before."

"It is you who know it--not I. _Say it!_" says the professor, almost
fiercely. "It is about her?"

"Your ward? Yes. Your brother it seems has made his mind to bestow upon
her his hand, his few remaining acres, and," with a sneer, "his spotless
reputation."

"_Hardinge!_" cries the professor, springing to his feet as if shot. He
is evidently violently agitated. His companion mistakes the nature of
his excitement.

"Forgive me!" says he quickly. "Of course _nothing_ can excuse my
speaking of him like that--to you. But I feel you ought to be told. Miss
Wynter is in your care, you are in a measure responsible for her future
happiness--the happiness of her whole _life_, Curzon--and if anything
goes wrong with her----"

The professor puts up his hand as if to check him. He has grown
ashen-grey, and the other hand resting on the back of the chair is
visibly trembling.

"Nothing shall go wrong with her," says he, in a curious tone.

Hardinge regards him keenly. Is this pallor, this unmistakable
trepidation, caused only by his dislike to hear his brother's real
character exposed.

"Well, I have told you," says he coldly.

"It is a mistake," says the professor. "He would not dare to approach a
young, innocent girl. The most honorable proposal such a man as he could
make to her would be basely dishonorable."

"Ah! you see it in that light too," says Hardinge, with a touch of
relief. "My dear fellow, it is hard for me to discuss him with you, but
yet I fear it must be done. Did you notice nothing in his manner last
night?"

Yes, the professor _had_ noticed something. Now there comes back to him
that tall figure stooping over Perpetua, the handsome, leering face bent
low--the girl's instinctive withdrawal.

"Something must be done," says he.

"Yes. And quickly. Young girls are sometimes dazzled by men of his sort.
And Per--Miss Wynter ... Look here, Curzon," breaking off hurriedly.
"This is _your_ affair, you know. You are her guardian. You should see
to it."

"I could speak to her."

"That would be fatal. She is just the sort of girl to say 'Yes' to him
because she was told to say 'No.'"

"You seem to have studied her," says the professor quietly.

"Well, I confess I have seen a good deal of her of late."

"And to some purpose. Your knowledge of her should lead you to making a
way out of this difficulty."