So they both turned in.
Adam knocked at Sir Nathaniel’s door in the grey of the morning, and, on being bidden, came into the room. He had several letters in his hand. Sir Nathaniel sat up in bed.
“I should like to read you a few letters, but, of course, I shall not send them unless you approve. In fact”—with a smile and a blush—“there are several things which I want to do; but I hold my hand and my tongue till I have your approval.”
“Go on!” said the other kindly. “Tell me all, and count at any rate on my sympathy, and on my approval and help if I can see my way.”
Accordingly Adam proceeded:
“When I told you the conclusions at which I had arrived, I put in the foreground that Mimi Watford should, for the sake of her own safety, be removed—and that the monster which had wrought all the harm should be destroyed.”
“Yes, that is so.”
“To carry this into practice, sir, one preliminary is required—unless harm of another kind is to be faced. Mimi should have some protector whom all the world would recognise. The only form recognised by convention is marriage!”
Sir Nathaniel smiled in a fatherly way.
“To marry, a husband is required. And that husband should be you.”
“And the marriage should be immediate and secret—or, at least, not spoken of outside ourselves. Would the young lady be agreeable to that proceeding?”
“I do not know, sir!”
“Then how are we to proceed?”
“I suppose that we—or one of us—must ask her.”
“Is this a sudden idea, Adam, a sudden resolution?”
“A sudden resolution, sir, but not a sudden idea. If she agrees, all is well and good. The sequence is obvious.”
“And it is to be kept a secret amongst ourselves?”
“I want no secret, sir, except for Mimi’s good. For myself, I should like to shout it from the house-tops! But we must be discreet; untimely knowledge to our enemy might work incalculable harm.”
“And how would you suggest, Adam, that we could combine the momentous question with secrecy?”
Adam grew red and moved uneasily.
“Someone must ask her—as soon as possible!”
“And that someone?”
“I thought that you, sir, would be so good!”
“God bless my soul! This is a new kind of duty to take on—at my time of life. Adam, I hope you know that you can count on me to help in any way I can!”
“I have already counted on you, sir, when I ventured to make such a suggestion. I can only ask,” he added, “that you will be more than ever kind to me—to us—and look on the painful duty as a voluntary act of grace, prompted by kindness and affection.”
“Yes,” said Adam boldly. “Painful to you, though to me it would be all joyful.”