Dr. Jerce looked at Clarice with a lowering face, and his expressive¹ eyes flashed with anger. He was a strong-willed man, accustomed to having his own way in the face of all obstacles, and the merest hint of opposition² annoyed him. Having set his heart on marrying Miss Baird, he was determined³ to bring about the match, and, notwithstanding the hint of refusal which she had given him, while Horran was alive, his determination remained unchanged. To be sure, he had then been ignorant of her engagement with Ackworth, and had calculated upon an easier conquest of her objections. But now that he knew her affections were engaged, he saw clearly that it would be extremely difficult for him to achieve his purpose. Clarice, as he knew, was no weak girl, to be talked into surrender; but for all that, Jerce attempted to bend her to his will.  
The doctor was too clever a man to give way to bad temper, knowing that such a weakness might lose him the prize he aimed at. Inwardly angry, he was outwardly calm, and after that first swift look of annoyance⁴, he regained⁵ his suavity⁶. "Does Captain Ackworth know that you intend to marry him?" asked Jerce, politely.
 
Clarice threw back her head haughtily⁷. "Certainly. He has proposed to me, and we are engaged."
 
"Since when, may I ask?"
 
"You may ask, but I am not bound to answer."
 
"I am your oldest friend, Miss Baird, now that poor Horran is dead."
 
Clarice lifted her eyebrows⁸. "Still I fail to see that being an old friend gives you the right to cross-examine me about things which do not concern you."
 
"It concerns me a great deal that you should be happy," said Jerce, disconcerted by her calmness.
 
"Then you can set your mind at rest, doctor. I am happy."
 
Jerce looked down at his neat boots. "I should have thought that a girl of your strong character would have chosen otherwise."
 
"Really," said Clarice, indifferently.
 
"In fact," stammered⁹ Jerce, flushing, "I thought of offering myself as your husband."
 
"Oh, I saw that long ago, doctor."
 
"And you had no pity upon me?"
 
"Why should I have pity?" asked Clarice, with a perceptible smile. "I have not played the coquette with you."
 
"No," said Jerce, bitterly; "I am bound to say that at the first hint I gave you of my feelings, you recoiled¹⁰, and have since held me at arm's length."
 
"Seeing that I am engaged, that is as it should be."
 
Jerce bit his lips. It angered him that she should be so calm, and so completely mistress of herself. "There is no hope for me, I suppose?" he inquired, with great humility¹¹.
 
"None. Anthony is the man I love, and Anthony will be my husband."
 
"Perhaps," said Jerce, under his breath, but she heard him.
 
"Why do you say that?" she asked, abruptly¹².
 
"There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip."
 
"That's a very well-known proverb, doctor, but it does not explain what you mean."
 
"Then will you permit me to speak plainer?"
 
"If you are wise you will not," said Clarice, quietly. "We are good friends, doctor; why should we become strangers?"
 
"I could never be a stranger to you," he said, fervently¹³.
 
"Oh, I think so, if I chose."
 
"And would you choose?"
 
"Certainly, if you would not accept the situation."
 
"I cannot," cried Jerce, his emotions getting the better of his judgment¹⁴. "I am a man, and I feel like a man. For years I have loved you, and for a long time I have wished to make you my wife. I spoke¹⁵ to Horran, and he was agreeable that I should marry you."
 
"Indeed," cried Clarice, with a flush of anger. "Then permit me to remind you, doctor, that Mr. Horran, much as I loved him, had not the right to dispose of my hand. That goes with my heart."
 
"Which is possessed¹⁶ by Captain Ackworth," said Jerce, bitterly.
 
"Exactly. You leave nothing to be desired in the way of explanation."
 
"But Ackworth is not worthy¹⁷ of you," urged the doctor.
 
"Really, and in what way?"
 
Jerce was puzzled how to reply. He knew next to nothing about Captain Ackworth. "He doesn't look as if he had brains."
 
"Ah! Looks are deceptive¹⁸ sometimes. Now you, doctor, look as though you had common sense, yet your conversation at present doesn't reveal that quality."
 
"You are hard, Clarice."
 
"I thought that you were not going to call me Clarice until you had the right?"
 
"I wish to acquire the right."
 
"It is too late. Come, doctor," said Clarice, tired of this quibbling, "it is useless to prolong this conversation. There are more important things to talk about than my marriage, which, after all--as I have reminded you--is entirely¹⁹ my own affair. Let us agree to be friends," and she held out her hand, smiling.
 
Jerce did not take it. "I can be nothing less than your husband," he said, drawing down his long upper lip obstinately²⁰.
 
"In that case, doctor, we may as well part for ever."
 
"For ever?" Jerce started to his feet, much agitated²¹. "Oh, Clarice, you don't mean that. I love you--I adore you--I worship you. No doubt it may seem ridiculous to you that a man of my age should speak like a schoolboy, and should show his deepest feelings so plainly. But I have had a lonely life, and you are all the world to me. Don't send me away without hope. Only say that some day--in some sweet hour--I can come and take your hand in mine."
 
Clarice rose also, and her eyes sparkled with anger. "You are mad to talk in this way," she cried, passionately²². "How can I say what you want me to say, when I am engaged, and when I love?"
 
"I am rich," pleaded Jerce, eagerly. "I have a great name. I have heard that my name will be included in the list of New Year's honours. I shall be Sir Daniel Jerce, and you--"
 
"I shall be Mrs. Ackworth," interrupted Clarice, imperiously. "Not a word more, doctor; my mind is made up."
 
"And so is mine," said Jerce, with a snarl²³, his face livid, and his eyes hard. "You shall not marry this man."
 
"Who will prevent me?" asked Clarice, with superb disdain²⁴. "Who will prevent me from becoming Anthony's wife?"
 
"I will. You shall become my wife."
 
"If there was not another man in the world, I would decline that honour. And let me remind you that I am no school-girl to be frightened by stage thunder. How dare you?--how dare you?" Clarice stamped her foot, and clenched²⁵ her hands. "Go away, and never come near me again."
 
Jerce remained silent for one moment. Then, without a word, he took up his hat and walked slowly to the door. Only when he had opened it, and stood with the handle in his hand, did he speak. "I shall go away," he said, with a steady look at the girl, "and I shall not return until you summon me."
 
When the door closed, Clarice sank back in her seat, overwhelmed with emotion. She had small sympathy for the doctor, since he had merely cried like a child for the moon, which he knew was entirely beyond his reach. But his last words impressed her with a sense of danger, and she wondered what he meant by this sudden obedience²⁶. Had he defied her, and remained to argue, she would have felt safer. Dr. Jerce--as she knew--was too strong a man to give in without a struggle, and that he should do so in this instance was ominous²⁷. In the words of the French proverb, he had but recoiled to spring the higher; yet Clarice could not see how he could harm her, or Anthony in any way. She was now her own mistress, free from supervision²⁸ of any kind; Horran's death was no mystery, and although the murderer was still at large, he would certainly be caught sooner or later; Ferdy--here Clarice rose again, and her face grew white. What if Jerce could harm her by harming Ferdy? Jerce knew all about the boy and his fast life, and Jerce, if put to it, would not hesitate to sacrifice Ferdy, or anyone else, to achieve his ends. But the question was--what did Jerce know about Ferdy? While Clarice asked herself this, Ferdy himself entered, looking very sulky.
 
"I do call it a shame, Clarry," he said, flinging himself into a chair, and thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Why should Uncle Henry have treated me in this beastly way?"
 
"I think Uncle Henry has acted very wisely," said Clarice, harshly. The tone of her voice made Ferdy look up from his gloomy contemplation of the carpet, and he was struck by the whiteness of her face.
 
"What's the matter with you?" he inquired, crossly. "I should think that you ought to be satisfied, seeing that everything has come your way, Clarry."
 
"Do you think that it is a pleasure for me to take your burdens upon my shoulders?" asked Clarice, fiercely. "I would much rather that Uncle Henry had named Dr. Jerce as your guardian²⁹, seeing that Dr. Jerce knows so much about you."
 
Ferdy started to his feet, changing colour like a chameleon³⁰. "What has Jerce been saying about me?" he demanded, with a sick look.
 
"Nothing. He did not even mention your name."
 
"Then what are you jawing³¹ about?" snapped Ferdy, sitting down again.
 
Clarice placed herself before him, and tried to make him meet her eyes. But he would not, and kept them on the carpet, shuffling³² his feet uneasily meanwhile. "Dr. Jerce asked me to marry him," she said, in a clear voice. "I refused him. He has accepted my refusal so calmly that I am certain he intends mischief³³."
 
"What rot," said Ferdy, uneasily; "as though a great man like Jerce would bother his head over you."
 
"Oh," said Clarice, with a chill smile. "Perhaps it is King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid."
 
"Bosh!"
 
"You are not polite, Fe............