The People of the Mist | Page 5

tankard, for instance, which I have bought--hem--as a slight memento
of your family, cost me ten shillings an ounce."
"Indeed!" answered Leonard coldly; "I always understood that it was

worth fifty."
Then came another pause, during which all who were present, except
Mr. Beach and himself, rose one by one and quitted the room. Jane was
the last to go, and Leonard noticed, as she passed him, that there were
tears in her eyes.
"Jane," said her father in a meaning voice when her hand was already
on the door, "you will be careful to be dressed in time for dinner, will
you not, love? You remember that young Mr. Cohen is coming, and I
should like somebody to be down to receive him."
Jane's only answer to this remark was to pass through the door and
slam it behind her. Clearly the prospect of the advent of this guest was
not agreeable to her.
"Well, Leonard," went on Mr. Beach when they were alone, in a tone
that was meant to be sympathetic but which jarred horribly on his
listener's ears, "this is a sad business, very sad. But why are you not
sitting down?"
"Because no one asked me to," said Leonard as he took a chair.
"Hem!" continued Mr. Beach; "by the way I believe that Mr. Cohen is a
friend of yours, is he not?"
"An acquaintance, not a friend," said Leonard.
"Indeed, I thought that you were at the same college."
"Yes, but I do not like him."
"Prejudice, my dear boy, prejudice. A minor sin indeed, but one against
which you must struggle. But there, there, it is natural that you should
not feel warmly about the man who will one day own Outram. Ah! as I
said, this is all very sad, but it must be a great consolation to you to
remember that when everything is settled there will be enough, so I am
told, to pay your unhappy father's debts. And now, is there anything

that I can do for you or your brother?"
Leonard reflected that whatever may have been his father's misdeeds,
and they were many and black, it should scarcely have lain in the
mouth of the Rev. James Beach, who owed nearly everything he had in
the world to his kindness, to allude to them. But he could not defend his
father's memory, it was beyond defence, and just now he must fight for
his own hand.
"Yes, Mr. Beach," he said earnestly, "you can help me very much. You
know the cruel position in which my brother and I are placed through
no fault of our own: our old home is sold, our fortunes have gone
utterly, and our honourable name is tarnished. At the present moment I
have nothing left in the world except the sum of two hundred pounds
which I had saved for a purpose of my own out of my allowance. I have
no profession and cannot even take my degree, because I am unable to
afford the expense of remaining at college."
"Black, I must say, very black," murmured Mr. Beach, rubbing his chin.
"But under these circumstances what can I do to help you? You must
trust in Providence, my boy; it never fails the deserving."
"This," answered Leonard, nervously; "you can show your confidence
in me by allowing my engagement to Jane to be proclaimed." Here Mr.
Beach waved his hand once more as though to repel some invisible
force.
"One moment," continued Leonard. "I know that it seems a great deal
to ask, but listen. Although everything looks so dark, I have reliance on
myself. With the stimulus which my affection for your daughter will
give me, and knowing that in order to win her I must first put myself in
a position to support her as she should be supported, I am quite
convinced that I shall be able to surmount all difficulties by my own
efforts."
"Really, I cannot listen to such nonsense any longer," broke in Mr.
Beach angrily. "Leonard, this is nothing less than an impertinence. Of
course any understanding that may have existed between you and Jane

is quite at an end. Engagement! I heard of no engagement. I knew that
there was some boy and girl folly between you indeed, but for my part I
never gave the matter another thought."
"You seem to forget, sir," said Leonard, keeping his temper with
difficulty, "that not six months ago you and I had a long conversation
on this very subject, and decided that nothing should be said to my
father of the matter until I had taken my degree."
"I repeat that it is an impertinence," answered Mr. Beach, but with a
careful avoidance of the direct issue. "What! You, who have nothing in
the world