"No!--I'm not afraid of the law--but I am afraid of the curse this money will be to Reginald, if it's unlawfully obtained."
"Oh, if that is all your objection, I think you can set your mind at rest," replied the artist, with a sneer. "I'll help him to spend the money, and take my share of the curse. Don't talk rubbish--by putting Reginald in possession of ten thousand a year you will be harming no one--the money which should rightfully become Una Challoner's will still become hers by marriage, and two people will be made happy--if you will not help me, I'll tell Reginald all about his birth, and he will remain a pauper--if you help me, he will retain all--if you decline, he will lose everything."
"I do not see what chance I have against you," she cried in despair.
"No more do I!"
"You villain!" she said, furiously. "Why do you come and tempt me to sin like this?"
"I'm not tempting you to sin--don't I tell you, it will harm no one. Come, give me your answer--yes or no?"
"Yes," she said, faintly, "I agree."
"You will say that Reginald is the son of Fanny Blake and the Squire?"
"I will--for his sake."
"I don't care for whose sake you do it," he retorted, brutally, rising to his feet. "You've agreed to help me, so that's all I care about--now I'm going to get the papers."