He had longed to read an answer, a vulnerability or a fear in Melville's eyes which would give him the clue he needed, but there was nothing. Melville remained staring at him with a blank, defiant despair.

"Is there someone else you love?" Rathbone guessed. "It doesn't excuse you, but it would at least explain—to me, if no one else."

"There is no one else I wish to marry," Melville replied. "I have already told you that." He gave a little shiver. "There is no purpose in your asking me, Sir Oliver. I have nothing to tell you which can help. The only truth of the matter is that I never asked Zillah to marry me. I have no intention of ever marrying anyone." There was a curious bleakness in his eyes as he said it, and a momentary pull at his lips. "It was arranged without consulting me and I was foolish enough not to realize that all the chatter was taken to be sufficient notification. I was blind, I fully acknowledge that; naive, if you like." His chin came up. "I admit to carelessness of her feelings because I did not think of her as more than a friend I cared for dearly. It did not cross my mind that she felt otherwise. That was clumsy, looking back with the clarity of hindsight. I will not make that error again."

"That's not enough," Rathbone said bitterly.

"That is all there is." A self-mockery filled Melville's eyes. "I could say I had suddenly discovered madness in my family, if you like, but since it is not true, it would be impossible to prove. They'd be fools to believe me. Any young man could say that to escape an engagement if no proof were required."

"Except that it would disqualify him from all future engagements as well," Rathbone pointed out. "And possibly other things. It is not a tragedy one would wish upon anyone."

The irony vanished from Melville's face, leaving only pain behind. "No, of course it isn't. I did not mean to make light of the affliction of madness. It is just that this whole situation invites the thought of farce. I am sorry."

"It won't feel like farce when the jury finds against you and awards costs and damages," Rathbone replied, watching Melville's expression.

"I know," Melville answered in little above a whisper, looking away. "But there is nothing I can do except employ the best lawyer there is and trust in his skill."

Rathbone grunted. He had done his utmost, and it was insufficient. He let go of Melville's arm and stood up. The ushers were waiting. "You know where to find me if you should change your mind or think of anything at all which may be useful."

Melville rose also. "Yes, of course. Thank you for your patience, Sir Oliver."

Rathbone sighed.