"I have never met any one in my life whom I have learnt to admire so much in so short a time."
"Ah! poor Pussy will feel it when her old father goes. It preys on my mind sometimes when I think of it. What is to become of her, with her money and her inexperience; and no one to look after her but a brother almost as young and inexperienced as herself?"
"Miss Byrne's fate will probably be that of most other young ladies--she will marry."
"I wish with all my heart that she would: that is, if she would marry the sort of man I should like her to have. But to see her married to some empty-headed, extravagant fop of a fellow, who would squander her money and not make her happy--I could never rest quiet in my grave if that were to happen."
What Van Duren's answer would have been is not upon record, for just at this moment there came a knock at the door, and presently Bakewell's head was intruded into the room.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, carrying a finger to his forehead, "but there's a gentleman downstairs as wants to see you immediately on important business."
"Confound the gentleman, whoever he may be!" said Van Duren, with hearty goodwill. "Tell him I'll be down presently." Then, turning to Byrne, he added: "We business men can never really call an hour our own. I must ask you to make my excuses to Miss Byrne: I am sorry that I cannot say good-night to her in person."
"It will be your own fault if you don't see her again before long. Come and take a quiet cup of tea with us as often as you like. We are very quiet and very homely, but we shall always be glad to see you. You won't forget the lawyer, will you?"
When Miriam came downstairs a quarter of an hour later, she found her father sitting with his legs perched against the chimney-piece, and smoking his china pipe. He had flung his wig and skull-cap aside, he had relieved himself of his false hump, and he had taken his artificial teeth out of the bureau in which he kept them, and had fitted them carefully into his month.
"Miriam," he said, "before you are a week older Max Van Duren will propose marriage to you. I will tell you to-morrow what you are to say when he makes the offer. To-night I am tired. And now mix me a tumbler of grog: the sort of tumbler that you know so well how to mix, dear."