"Look here, Mr. Merton," said the Colonel. "I have let you run on to a certain length without interrupting you, because you explained at once that you wished to talk off straight away. But I think now I must pull you up, if you please. You have made out a very pretty story, hanging well together, and that kind of thing; and I have not contradicted you because I am not in the habit of lying, and I don't choose to stoop even to what is called prevarication. So, supposing we take all this for granted, I say to you, 'Why don't you speak to the young lady herself? The matter rests with her; it is she who has to decide it.' I shall not appear in George Street with a band of freebooters to carry her off, nor will she be seized upon by any men in black masks as she walks home to her lodgings. This is the latter half of the nineteenth century, when such actions are not common. A simple Yes or No is all she has to say, and the affair is entirely in her hands."
"I told you at once that I did not deny your perspicacity in reading character. You showed it in your selection of my sister as your agent; you show it further in your selection of Miss Stafford"--here John Merton's voice sank to a whisper, and he spoke through his teeth--"to be what you propose to make her. You know that you have exactly gauged the mind and temperament of this girl; that, strong-minded in some things, she is weak in others; vain, too sensitive and too refined for the people with whom she is brought into contact, and longing for luxuries which, while they are denied to her, she sees other people enjoy."
"I must reciprocate your compliment about the knowledge of character, Mr. Merton," said the Colonel; "your description of Miss Stafford appears to me quite exact."
"Knowing this, you know equally well," continued John Merton, "that she is the style of person to be caught by the temptations which you have thought fit to offer her; you know perfectly well that her hesitation in deciding on your proposition is simply caused by the small remnants of the influence of proper bringing-up and self-respect struggling with her wishes and inclinations."
"If Miss Stafford's wishes and inclinations prompt her to do what I am asking her to do, I really cannot see why I should be expected to consent to thwart them and upset my own plans."
"Colonel Orpington," said John Merton, sternly, "I have told you that I would not pretend to thrust the religious side of this question upon you; and in return I have a right to call upon you to drop this society jargon, and let us talk this matter out as men. I will make this concession to your vanity: I will tell you I fully believe that Miss Stafford's future fate is in your hands; that if you choose to persist in the offer which you have made to her, or rather if you do not actually withdraw it, she will become something so degraded that I, who love her so, would sooner see her dead."
"Look here, my good sir," interrupted the Colonel, impatiently; "you were good enough to talk about my using 'society's jargon;' I must trouble you to drop the language of the penny romances. What the deuce do you mean by 'something so degraded?' If Miss Stafford accepts my propositions, she will have everything she wants."
"Will she?" said John Merton, quickly. "Will she have your name? or, even supposing she makes use of it, will she have any lawful right to do so? Will she have the companionship of honest women, the friendship of honest men?"
"She will have, what is a deuced sight better, the envy of pretty women, and the companionship of pleasant fellows," said the Colonel.
"You meet my earnestness with flippancy," said John Merton. "I know Fanny Stafford, and, with all her vanity and all her love of luxury, I know that after a time the life would be insupportable to her. Her proud spirit would never brook the stares which would greet her, and the whisperings which would follow her progress. No amount of money at her command would make up to her for that."