On the 16th Mr. Harding found a note from Sir Emilius at his office:—
“Sir,—My ‘Morning Post’ informs me that a marriage has been arranged between your daughter and my son. If you care for the young lady’s happiness you will put a stop to this at once.
“Yours faithfully,
“Emilius Daintree.
“N.B.—I send this word of warning in duplicate, both to your City and to your private address; as I think it hardly likely that you will receive both copies if my son is still with you.”
Mr. Harding started to his feet. He had not received the copy posted to his house. Was the father a liar or the son something worse? The father’s reputation—stay!
It was the son.
He had been down before Mr. Harding that morning; the latter had found him in the dining-room when he entered, and on his own plate were such letters as he had received. Harding seized his hat; then reflected, changed colour and took a pen himself. The note which he subsequently despatched by hand was a model of firmness, tempered by tact. He demanded, however, an immediate explanation of Sir Emilius Daintree’s words, and the messenger was to wait for an answer. The messenger returned without one.
Then Mr. Harding called in person.
Sir Emilius was not at home.
But next morning there was another brief note at the office:—
“Dear Sir,—I have been thinking the matter over. You have my sympathy; but I cannot enter into details. I absolutely decline
