He turned on me such an approving smile as you might fancy lighting up the rugged features of a pale old Rembrandt.
'I can tell you, Maud; if my life could have done it, it should not have been undone—ubi lapsus, quid feci. But I had almost made up my mind to change my plan, and leave all to time—edax rerum—to illuminate or to consume. But I think little Maud would like to contribute to the restitution of her family name. It may cost you something—are you willing to buy it at a sacrifice? Is there—I don't speak of fortune, that is not involved—but is there any other honourable sacrifice you would shrink from to dispel the disgrace under which our most ancient and honourable name must otherwise continue to languish?'
'Oh, none—none indeed, sir—I am delighted!'
Again I saw the Rembrandt smile.
'Well, Maud, I am sure there is no risk; but you are to suppose there is. Are you still willing to accept it?'
Again I assented.
'You are worthy of your blood, Maud Ruthyn. It will come soon, and it won't last long. But you must not let people like Monica Knollys frighten you.'
I was lost in wonder.
'If you allow them to possess you with their follies, you had better recede in time—they may make the ordeal as terrible as hell itself. You have zeal—have you nerve?'