"Mary, I want to be absolutely frank with you," said the Judge. "I wish you to marry young Wilson."
"Is that a command?" said the girl, and her voice was as cold as ice.
Her father looked at her steadily for a few seconds. He seemed to be on the point of resenting her tones, but presently decided not to do so.
"Let us put it this way," he said quietly, "Your marriage with Wilson would help me out of many difficulties, and save me from many troubles."
"I don't understand, father."
"You've always looked upon me as a rich man," said Judge Bolitho. "I'm not. I have been unfortunate in my investments, and while I was practising at the Bar I made a good income; but we have always lived up to it. You see, I have had to entertain a good deal; and then my Parliamentary career, though short, was very expensive. I know I have been very foolish, but I kept on that London house when I ought not to have done so. A man who keeps up two establishments should be rich. I thought I could afford it at one time, as my investments promised well. Still, everything has gone to pieces, and I have enormous liabilities. Had I known how things would have turned out I would never have accepted the judgeship. You see, the salary is but small compared with what I could make before. Within the next few months I have to find huge sums of money; and—well, when you are Wilson's wife, it'll be easy. But, for the life of me, I do not know another man who could help me out of my troubles! There, Mary; I am sorry to have to make such a confession, but it is best for you to know."
"Then I am to be sold!" said the girl. "Sold like a bale of cotton!"
"Don't put it in that way," said the father. "It's not fair. Besides, consciously or unconsciously, you have doubtlessly encouraged Wilson. You've repeatedly gone to the house, and you have known what gossips have said."
"I have refrained from contradicting gossip for your sake," replied Mary.
"Yes, I know. But you've always seemed pleased to see him, and as far as I can judge, always found pleasure in his society. He's a good fellow, too. I have made inquiries about him. He has a blameless record, and I am sure would make you a good husband. As for position—it is true he belongs to the manufacturing classes, but trade is no longer regarded as it used to be. Why, how many men in Ned's position have, during the last few years, obtained peerages! Among all our circle of friends in London there is not one who could do for us what Ned can do; and—Mary, as far as a father can promise for his daughter, I promised for you. I knew you liked him, and Ned regards it as settled."