The abrupt question startled her.  She had been so overjoyed to see him—­her whole soul was so buoyant and radiant with happiness—­that she had quite forgotten or dismissed the vague fears that had been of late besetting her.  But she proceeded to tell him, with a little hesitation here and there, and with a considerable smoothing down of phrases, what her father had said to her.  She tried to make it appear quite reasonable.  And all she prayed for was that, if he were sent to America, if they had to part for many years, or forever, she should be permitted to say good-bye to him.

“We are not parted yet,” said Brand, briefly.

The fact was, he had just got a new key to the situation.  So that threat about America could serve a double purpose?  He was now more than ever convinced that Ferdinand Lind was merely playing off and on with him until this money question should be settled; and that he had been resolved all the time that his daughter should not marry.  He was beginning to understand.

“Natalie,” said he, slowly, “I told you I had something to say to you.  You know your father wrote to me in the North, asking me neither to see you nor write to you until some matter between him and me was settled.  Well, I respected his wish until I should know what the thing was.  Now that I do know, it seems to me that you are as much concerned as any one; and that it is not reasonable, it is not possible, I should refrain from seeing you and consulting you.”

“No one shall prevent your seeing me, when it is your wish,” said the girl, in a low voice.

“This, then, is the point:  you know enough about the Society to understand, and there is no particular secret.  Your father wishes me to enter the higher grade of officers, under the Council; and the first condition is that one surrenders up every farthing of one’s property.”

“Yes?”

He stared at her.  Her “Yes?”—­with its affectionate interest and its absolute absence of surprise—­was almost the exact equivalent of Lord Evelyn’s “Well?”

“Perhaps you would advise me to consent?” he said, almost in the way of a challenge.

“Ah, no,” she said, with a smile.  “It is not for me to advise on such things.  What you decide for yourself, that will be right.”

“But you don’t understand, my darling.  Supposing I were ambitious of getting higher office, which I am not; supposing I were myself willing to sell my property to swell the funds of the Society—­and I don’t think I should be willing in any case—­do you think I would part with what ought to belong to my wife—­to you, Natalie?  Do you think I would have you marry a beggar—­one dependent on the indulgence of people unknown to him?”

And now there was a look of real alarm on the girl’s face.

“Ah!” she said, quickly.  “Is not that what my father feared?  You are thinking of me when you should think of others.  Already I—­I—­interfere with your duty; I tempt you—­”