"Good-bye, sir. You ought not to be angry with me. I am sure it will be better for us both to remain as we are." This was said by Miss Dorothy Grey, as a gentleman departed from her and made his way out of the front-door at the Fulham Manor-house. Miss Grey had received an offer of marriage, and had declined it. The offer had been made by a worthy man, he being no other than her father\'s partner, Mr. Barry.

It may be remembered that, on discussing the affairs of the firm with her father, Dolly Grey had been accustomed to call this partner "the Devil." It was not that she had thought this partner to be specially devilish, nor was he so. It had ever been Miss Grey\'s object to have the affairs of the firm managed with an integrity which among lawyers might be called Quixotic. Her father she had dubbed "Reason," and herself "Conscience;" but in calling Mr. Barry "the Devil" she had not intended to signify any defalcation from honesty more than ordinary in lawyers\' offices. She did, in fact, like Mr. Barry. He would occasionally come out and dine with her father. He was courteous and respectful, and performed his duties with diligence. He spent nobody\'s money but his own, and not all of that; nor did he look upon the world as a place to which men were sent that they might play. He was nearly forty years old, was clean, a little bald, and healthy in all his ways. There was nothing of a devil about him, except that his conscience was not peculiarly attentive to abstract honesty and abstract virtue. There must, according to him, be always a little "give and take" in the world; but in the pursuit of his profession he gave a great deal more than he took. He thought himself to be an honest practitioner, and yet in all domestic professional conferences with her father Mr. Barry had always been Miss Grey\'s "Devil."

The possibility of such a request as had been now made had been already discussed between Dolly and her father. Dolly had said that the idea was absurd. Mr. Grey had not seen the absurdity. There had been nothing more common, he had said, than that a young partner should marry an old partner\'s daughter. "It\'s not put into the partnership deed?" Dolly had rejoined. But Dolly had never believed that the time would come. Now it had come.

Mr. Barry had as yet possessed no more than a fourth of the business. He had come in without any capital, and had been contented with a fourth. He now suggested to Dolly that on their marriage the business should be equally divided. And he had named the house in which they would live. There was a pleasant, genteel residence on the other side of the water, at Putney. Miss Grey had suggested that the business might be divided in a manner that would be less burdensome to Mr. Barry. As for the house, she could not leave her father. Upon the whole, she had thought that it would be better for both of them that they should remain as they were. By that Miss Grey had not intended to signify that Mr. Barry was to remain single, but that he would have to do so in reference to Miss Grey.

When he was gone Dolly Grey spent the remainder of the afternoon in contemplating what would have been her condition had she agreed to join her lot to that of Mr. Barry, and she came to the conclusion that it would have been simply unendurable. There was nothing of romance in her nature; but as she looked at matrimony, with all its blisses,—and Mr. Barry among them,—she told herself that death would be preferable. "I know myself," she said. "I should come to hate him with a miserable hatred. And then I should hate myself for having done him so great an evil." And as she continued thinking she assured herself that there was but one man with whom she could live, and that that was her father. And then other questions presented themselves to her, which were not so easily answered. What would become of her when he should go? He was now sixty-six, and she was only thirty-two. He was healthy for his age, but would complain of his work. She knew that he must in course of nature go much the first. Ten years he might live, while she might probably be called upon to endure for thirty more. "I shall have to do it all alone," she said; "all alone; without a companion, without one soul to whom I can open my own. But if I were to marry Mr. Barry," she continued, "I should at once be encumbered with a soul to whom I could not open my own. I suppose I shall be enabled to live through it, as do others." Then she began to prepare for her father\'s coming. As long as he did remain with her she would make the most of him.

"Papa," she said, as she took him by the hand as he entered the house and led him into the dining-room,—"who do you think has been here?"

"Mr. Barry."

"Then he has told you?"

"Not a word,—not even that he was coming. But I saw him as he left the chambers, and he had on a bright hat and a new coat."

"And he thought that those could move me."

"I have not known that he has wanted to move you. You asked me to guess, and I have guessed right, it seems."

"Yes; you have guessed right."

"And why did he come?"

"Only to ask me to be his wife."

"And what did you say to him, Dolly?"

"What did I say to the Devil?" She still held him by the hand, and now she laughed lightly as she looked into his face. "Cannot you guess what I said to him?"

"I am sorry for it;—that\'s all."

"Sorry for it? Oh, papa, do not say that you are sorry. Do you want to lose me?"

"I do not want to think that for my own selfish purposes I have retained you. So he has asked you?"

"Yes; he has asked me."

"And you have answered him positively?"

"Most positively."

"And for my sake?"

"No, papa; I have not said that. I was joking when I asked whether you wished to lose me. Of course you do not want to lose me." Then she wound her arm round him, and put up her face to be kissed. "But now come and dress yourself, as you call it. The dinner is late. We will talk about it again after dinner."

But immediately after dinner the conversation went away to Mr. Scarborough and the Scarborough matters. "I am to see Augustus, and he is to tell me something about Mountjoy and his affairs. They say that Mountjoy is now in Paris. The money can be given to them now, if he will consent and will sign the deed releasing the property. But the men have not all as yet agreed to accept the simple sums which they advanced. That fellow Hart stands out, and says that he would sooner lose it all."

"Then he will lose it all," said Dolly.

"But the squire will consent to pay nothing unless they all agree. Augustus is talking about his excessive generosity."

"It is generous on his part," said Dolly.

"He sees his own advantage, though I cannot quite understand where. He tells Tyrrwhit that as there is so great an increase to the property he is willing, for the sake of the good name of the family, to pay all that has been in truth advanced; but he is most anxious to do it now, while his father is alive. I think he fears that there will be lawsuits, and that they may succeed. I doubt whether he thanks his father."

"But why should his father lie for his sake, since they are on such bad terms?"

"Because his father was on worse terms with Mountjoy when he told the lie. That is what I think Augustus thinks. But his father told no lie at that time, and cannot now go back to falsehood. My belief is that if he were confident that such is the fact he would not surrender a shilling to pay these men their moneys. He may stop a lawsuit, which is like enough, though they could only lose it. And if Mountjoy should turn out to be the heir, which is impossible, he will be able to turn round and say that by his efforts he had saved so much of the property."

"My head becomes so bewildered," said Dolly, "that I can hardly understand it yet."

"I think I understand it; but I can only guess at his mind. But he has got Tyrrwhit to accept forty thousand pounds, which is the sum he, in truth, advanced. The stake is too great for the man to lose it without ruin. He can get it back now, and save himself. But Hart is the more determined blackguard. He, with two others, has a claim for thirty-five thousand pounds, for which he has given but ten thousand pounds in hard cash, and he thinks that he may get some profit out of Tyrrwhit\'s money, and holds out."

"For how much?"

"For the entire debt, he tells me; but I know that he is trying to deal with Tyrrwhit. Tyrrwhit would pay him five thousand, I think, so as to secure the immediate payment of his own money. Then there are a host of others who are contented to take what they have advanced, but not contented if Hart is to have more. There are other men in the background who advanced the money. All the rascaldom of London is let loose upon me. But Hart is the one man who holds his head the highest."

"But if they will accept no terms they will get nothing," said Dolly. "If once they attempt to go to law all will be lost."
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