“There,” said she, “I will abide by that test.  If he says ‘yes,’ I will never see him again—­never speak one word to him again.”

Her father took the note and read it.  It was as follows: 

“My Dear Friend,—­I am anxious about the future for both of us.  If you will promise me, now and at once, to give up the work you are engaged in, I will be your wife, when and where you will.

  NATALIE.”

“Send it!” she said, proudly.  “I am not afraid.  If he says ‘yes,’ I will never see him again.”

The challenge was not accepted.  He tore the note in two and flung it into the grate.

“It is time to put an end to this folly,” he said impatiently.  “I have shown you what persistence in it would bring on yourself.  You would be estranged from everything and every one you have hitherto been interested in; you would have to begin a new life, for which you are not fitted; you would be the means of doing our cause an irreparable injury.  Yes, I say so frankly.  The withdrawal of this man Brand, which would certainly follow, sooner or later, on his marriage, would be a great blow to us.  We have need of his work; we have still more need of his money.  And it is you, you of all people in the world, who would be the means of taking him away from us!”

“But it is not so, papa,” she said in great distress.  “Surely you do not think that I am begging to be allowed to become his wife?  That is for him to decide; I will follow his wishes as far as I can—­as far as you will allow me, papa.  But this I know, that, so far from interfering with the work he has undertaken, it would only spur him on.  Should I have thought of it otherwise?  Ah, surely you know—­you have said so to me yourself—­he is not one to go back.”

“He is an Englishman; you do not understand Englishmen,” her father said; and then he added, firmly, “You are not to be deterred by what may happen to yourself.  Well, consider what may happen to him.  I tell you I will not have this risk run.  George Brand is too valuable to us.  If you or he persist in this folly, it will be necessary to provide against all contingencies by procuring his banishment.”

“Banishment!” she exclaimed, with a quick and frightened look.

“That may not sound much to you,” said her father, calmly, “for you have scarcely what may be called a native country.  You have lived anywhere, everywhere.  It is different with an Englishman, who has his birthplace, his family estate, his friends in England.”

“What do you mean, papa?” said she, in a low voice.  She had not been frightened by the fancy picture he had drawn of her own future, but this ominous threat about her lover seemed full of menace.

“I say that, at all hazards,” Lind continued, looking at her from under the bushy eyebrows, “this folly must be brought to an end.  It is not expedient that a marriage between you and Mr. Brand should even be thought of.  You have both got other duties, inexorable duties.  It is my business to see that nothing comes in the way of their fulfilment.  Do you understand?”