"Hum! there's no accounting for tastes. I think Bernard is the better of the two."
"Bernard has always been a trouble," said Lucy, "and Julius has never given you a moment's uneasiness."
"Hum," said Sir Simon again, his eyes fixed on the fire. "I don't believe Julius is so good as you make him out to be. Now Bernard—"
"Uncle," said Lucy, who had long ago been instructed to call her relative by this name, "why don't you make it up with Bernard? I assure you Julius is so good, he doesn't want to have the money."
"And you?" The old man looked at her sharply.
"I don't either. Julius has his own little income, and earns enough as an architect to live very comfortably. Let me marry Julius, dear uncle, and we will be happy. Then you can take back Bernard and let him marry dear, sweet Alice."
"I doubt one woman when she praises another," said Sir Simon, dryly. "Alice may be very agreeable."
"She is beautiful and clever."
The baronet looked keenly at Lucy's flushed face, trying to fathom her reason for praising the other woman. He failed, for Miss Randolph's face was as innocent as that of a child. "She is no doubt a paragon, my dear," he said; "but I won't have her marry Bernard. By this time the young fool must have come to his senses. Find out from Julius where he is, and—"
"Julius may not know!"
"If Julius wants my money he will keep an eye on Bernard."
"So as to keep Bernard away," said Lucy, impetuously. "Ah, uncle, how can you? Julius doesn't want the money—"
"You don't know that."
"Ask him yourself then."
"I will." Sir Simon rang the bell to intimate to Mrs. Gilroy that Julius could be shown up. "If he doesn't want it, of course I can leave it to someone else."
"To Bernard."
"Perhaps. And yet I don't know," fumed Sir Simon. "The rascal defied me! He offered to pitch me out of the window if I said a word against that Alice of his. I want Bernard to marry you—"
"I am engaged to Julius."
"So you said before," snapped the other. "Well, then, Miss Perry. She is an heiress."
"And as plain as Alice is handsome."
"What does that matter? She is good-tempered. However, it doesn't matter. I won't be friends with Bernard unless he does what I tell him. He must give up Alice and marry Miss Perry. Try the Red Window scheme when you go back to the Hall, Lucy. It will bring Bernard to see me, as you say."
"It will," said Lucy, but by no means willingly. "Bernard comes down at times to the Hall to watch for the light. But I can make a Red Window here."
"Bernard doesn't know the house."
"I am sure he does," said Lucy. "He has to go to the lawyers for what little money he inherits from his father, and Mr. Durham may have told him you are here. Then if I put the light behind a red piece of paper or chintz, Bernard will come here."
"It is all romantic rubbish," grumbled the old man, warming his hands. "But do what you like, child. I want to give Bernard a last chance." At this moment Julius appeared. He was a slim young man with a mild face, rather expressionless. His hair and eyes were brown. He was irreproachably dressed, and did not appear to have much brain power. Also, from the expression of his eyes he was of a sly nature. Finally, Mr. Beryl was guarded in his speech, being quite of the opinion that speech was given to hide thoughts. He saluted his uncle affectionately, kissed Lucy's cheek in a cold way, and sat down to observe what a damp, dull day it was and how bad for Sir Simon's rheumatism. A more colorless, timid, meek young saint it would have been hard to find in the whole of London.
"I have brought you some special snuff," he said, extending a packet to his host. "It comes from Taberley's."
"Ah, thank you. I know the shop. A very good one! Do you get your cigars there, Julius?"
"I never smoke," corrected the good young man, coldly.
Sir Simon sneered. "You never do anything manly," he said contemptuously. "Well, why are you here?"
"I wish, with your permission, to take Lucy to the theatre on Friday," said Mr. Beryl. "Mrs. Webber is going with me, and she can act as chaperon."
"I should think she needed one herself. A nasty, flirting little cat of a woman," said Sir Simon, rudely. "Would you like to go, Lucy?"
"If you don't mind, uncle."
"Bah!" said the old man with a snarl. "How good you two are. Where is the theatre, Julius?"
"Near at hand. The Curtain Theatre."
"Ah! That's only two streets away. What is the play?"
"As You Like It, by—"
"By Chaucer, I suppose," snapped the old man. "Don't you think I know my Shakespeare? What time will you call for Lucy?"
"At half-past seven in the carriage with Mrs. Webber."
"Your own carriage?"
"I am not rich enough to afford one," said Julius, smiling. "Mrs. Webber's carriage, uncle. We will call for Lucy and bring her back safely at eleven or thereabouts."
"Very good; but no suppers, mind. I don't approve of Mrs. Webber taking Lucy to the Cecil or the Savoy."
"There is no danger of that, uncle," said Lucy, delighted at gaining permission.
"I hope not," said the old man ungraciously. "You can go, Lucy. I want to speak to Julius."
A look, unseen by the baronet, passed between the two, and then Lucy left the room. When alone, Sir Simon turned to his nephew. "Where is Bernard?" he asked.
A less clever man than Julius would have fenced and feigned surprise, but this astute young gentleman answered at once. "He has enlisted in the Imperial Yeomanry and goes out to the war in a month."
Sir Simon turned pale and rose. "He must not—he must not," he said, considerably agitated. "He will be killed, and then—"
"What does it matter?" said Julius coolly—"you have disinherited him—at least, I understand so."
"He defied me," shivered the baronet, warming his hands again and with a pale face; "but I did not think he would enlist. I won't have him go to the war. He must be bought out."
"I think he would refuse to be bought out now," said Beryl, dryly. "I don't fancy Bernard, whatever his faults, is a coward."
"My poor boy!" said Sir Simon, who was less hard than he looked. "It is your fault that this has happened, Julius."
"Mine, uncle?"
"Yes. You told me about Miss Malleson."
"I knew you would not approve of the match," said Julius, quietly.
"And you wanted me to cut off Bernard with a shilling—"
"Not for my own sake," said Julius, calmly. "You need not leave a penny to me, Sir Simon."
"Don't you want the money? It's ten thousand a year."
"I should like it very much," assented Beryl, frankly; "but I do not want it at the price of my self-respect."
The old man looked at him piercingly, but could learn nothing from his inscrutable countenance. But he did not trust Julius in spite of his meek looks, and inwardly resolved to meet craft by craft. He bore a grudge against this young man for having brought about the banishment of his grandson, and felt inclined to punish him. Yet if Julius did not want the money, Sir Simon did not know how to wound him. Yet he doubted if Julius scorned wealth so much as he pretended; therefore he arranged how to circumvent him.
"Very