Lawrence admitted that he had never made any such intimation.

“Then, sir,” said Mr Brandon, “what reason could we have for mentioning this subject to you—­a subject that would not have been referred to now, had it not been for your admission of your intended object in visiting my house?”

Lawrence had no answer to make to this, but it was not easy to turn him from his purpose.  “Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but I think a matter of this sort should be left to the lady.  If she is not inclined to receive my addresses she will say so, and there is an end of it.”

The face of Mr Brandon slightly reddened, but his voice remained as quiet and courteous as before.  “You do not comprehend, sir, the state of affairs, or you would see that a procedure of that kind would be extremely ill-judged at this time.  Were it known that at this critical moment Miss March was addressed by another suitor, it would seriously jeopardize the success of plans which we all have very much at heart.”

Lawrence did not immediately reply to this crafty speech.  His teeth were very firmly set, and he looked steadfastly before him.  “I do not understand all this,” he said, presently, “nor do I see that there is any need for my understanding it.  In fact I have nothing to do with it.  I wish to propose marriage to Miss March.  If she declines my offer there is an end of the matter.  If she accepts me, then it is quite proper that all your plans should fall to the ground.  She is the principal in the affair, and it is due to her and due to me that she should make the decision in this case.”

Mr Brandon had not quite so many teeth as his younger companion, but the very fair number which remained with him were set together quite as firmly as those of Lawrence had been.  He remarked, speaking very distinctly but without any show of emotion:  “I see, sir, that it is quite impossible for us to think alike on this subject, and there is, therefore, nothing left for me to do but to ask you—­and I assure you, sir, that the request is as destitute of any intention of discourtesy as if it were based upon the presence of sickness or family affliction—­that you will not visit my house at present.”

Lawrence rose to his feet with a good deal of color in his face.  “That settles the matter for the present,” he said.  “Of course I shall not go to a house which is forbidden to me.  I wish you good-morning, sir.”  And he stalked to his horse, and endeavored to pull down the limb to which its bridle was attached.

Mr Brandon followed him.  “You must mount before you can unfasten your bridle,” he said.  “And allow me to assure you, sir, that as soon as this little affair is settled I shall be very happy indeed to see you again at my house.”

Lawrence having succeeded in loosening his bridle from the tree, made answer with a bow, and galloped away to the Green Sulphur Springs.

Mr Brandon now mounted and rode home.  This was the first time in his life that he had ever forbidden any one to visit Midbranch, and yet he did not feel that he had been either discourteous or inhospitable.  “There are times,” he said to himself, “when a man must stand up for his own interest; and this is one of the times.”