to do so. You know the proverb, and a word should be enough for the wise; or you may go for your explanation to my son, who will tell you it is all my spite. It is for you, as a man of the world, to believe or to disbelieve him on that point.
“I will say, however, that so far as I know, my son is not insane.
“I would to Heaven he were!
“Yours, etc.,
“Emilius Daintree.”
Mr. Harding was now a miserable man. The very sight of the betrothed pair became an hourly agony. Yet he lacked either the courage or the will to interfere. Only four days remained—he called again on Sir Emilius Daintree. But again the baronet was invisible.
This time Harding left an urgent note; and yet another perfectly civil one awaited him in the City next morning. It was to be the last, however, and said so plainly in the following terms:—
“My Dear Sir,—You must excuse my unwillingness to see you, or to correspond further, upon the little matter of my son and your daughter. You will apprehend that the subject is probably more painful to me than to you—who have your remedy. I have none. My son need never become your son-in-law; but unhappily he will always be my son.
“Your last question is, however, a fair one, and I will answer it frankly on condition it is the last. So far as I am aware, then, my son has not already, nor (to my knowledge) has he ever had, a wife. I should say he is quite capable of having half-a-dozen. However, this is not ‘it’ at all. And I must beg you as a gentleman not to question me any further upon what is in fact a family matter, and one only named to you in confidence for your own guidance.
“Upon this understanding I have the honour to remain, sir, your obedient servant,
“Emilius Daintree.”
