And while she lay there, worn with crying, her father sat in his study talking to Brand. He related with candor what had happened, making no attempt to hide the ugliest facts; and Brand grasped at the opportunity opened for him. He recognized that it would give him a strong claim on Mowbray's gratitude. It might be mean to take advantage of it; but he had waited a long time for Beatrice, and might lose her altogether if he let this chance slip.
"You have my sympathy, sir," he said suavely. "It must have been a great shock; but I am glad you have taken me into your confidence, because I can be of help. You can repay me whenever you find you can do so without trouble."
Mowbray gave a sigh of great relief.
"Thank you, Brand. You cannot understand how you have eased my mind. I know of no one else who would, or could, have done so much."
The Colonel sank back in his chair, and Brand noticed how worn he looked. The younger man was conscious of a slight feeling of pity; but he could not afford to indulge it: he must strike while the iron was hot.
"Now that things are going so hard for you, in a financial way, it would be some satisfaction to feel that your daughter's future was safe," he said.
Mowbray was silent a moment. Then he answered slowly.
"Yes. I wish indeed that she could see her way to marry you."
"I will speak plainly. I have been waiting patiently, but, so far as I can judge, I have gained nothing by this. I'm afraid I may lose all if I wait much longer. Beatrice likes me, we agree on many points, our tastes are similar, and I think there's every reason to hope she could be happy with me. I could give her all that a girl brought up as she has been could desire."
"Do you suggest that I should urge her to marry you?" Mowbray asked with some asperity.