"Impossible," says the professor, simply, coldly.
"No? Why?"
The professor looks at him (a penetrating glance), but says nothing.
"Oh! damn it all!" says his brother, his brow darkening. "You had better, you know, if you want the old name kept above water much longer."
"You mean——?" says the professor, turning a grave face to his.
"Nothing but what is honorable. I tell you I mean to turn over a new leaf. 'Pon my word, I mean that. I'm sick of all this old racket, it's killing me. And my title is as good a one as she can find anywhere, and if I'm dipped—rather—her money would pull me straight again, and——"
He pauses, struck by something in the Professor's face.
"You mean——?" says the latter again, even more slowly. His eyes are beginning to light.
"Exactly what I have said," sullenly. "You have heard me."
"Yes, I have heard you," cries the professor, flinging aside all restraints and giving way to sudden violent passion—the more violent, coming from one so usually calm and indifferent. "You have come here to-day to try and get possession, not only of the fortune of a young and innocent girl, but of her body and soul as well! And it is me, me whom you ask to be a party to this shameful transaction. Her dead father left her to my care, and am I to sell her to you, that her money may redeem our name from the slough into which you have flung it? Is innocence to be sacrificed that vice may ride abroad again? Look here," says the professor, his face deadly white, "you have come to the wrong man. I shall warn Miss Wynter against marriage with you, as long as there is breath left in my body."