“It was a dreadful mistake ever to have allowed that young fury to enter the house,” said Mr. Lind. “She must be mad. What did he say?”
“He said a great deal in attempted self-justification. But I could make no impression on him. We have no feelings in common with a man of his type. No. He is evidently bent on raising himself by a good marriage.”
“We cannot prevent it.”
“Oh, surely we——”
“I tell you we cannot prevent it,” repeated Mr. Lind, turning angrily upon his son. “How can we? What can we do? She will marry this—this—this—this beggar. I wish to God I had never seen her mother.”
The clergyman stood by, cowed, and said nothing.
“You had better go to that woman of Marmaduke’s,” continued Mr. Lind, “and try whether she can persuade her brother to commute his interest in the company, and go back to America, or to the devil. I will take care that he gets good terms, even if I have to make them up out of my own pocket. If the worst comes, she must be persuaded to leave Marmaduke. Offer her money. Women of that sort drive a hard bargain; but they have their price.”
“But, sir, consider my profession. How can I go to drive a bargain with a woman of evil reputation?”
“Well, I must go myself, I suppose.”
“Oh, no. I will go. Only I thought I would mention it.”