‘I, sir?’

’Yes, you.  Mr Boncassen told me that you and he were so deeply taken up with each other at his house that nobody could get a word with either of you.’

‘Have you seen Mr Boncassen?’ asked the son, whose attention was immediately diverted from his father’s political badinage.

’Yes;—­I have seen him.  I happened to meet him where I was dining last Sunday, and he walked home with me.  He was so intent upon what he was saying that I fear he allowed me to take him out of his way.’

‘What was he talking about,’ said Silverbridge.  All his preparations, all his eloquence, all his method, now seemed to have departed from him.

‘He was talking about you,’ said the Duke.

‘He had told me that he wanted to see you.  What did he say, sir?’

’I suppose you can guess what he said.  He wished to know what I thought of the offer you have made to his daughter.’  The great subject had come up so easily, so readily, that he was almost aghast when he found himself in the middle of it.  And yet he must speak of the matter, and that at once.

‘I hope you raised no objection, sir,’ he said.

’The objection came mainly from him; and I am bound to say that every word that fell from him was spoken with wisdom.’

‘But still he asked you to consent.’

’By no means.  He told me his opinion,—­and then he asked me a question.’

‘I am sure he did not say that we ought not to be married.’

‘He did say that he thought you ought not to be married if—­’

‘If what, sir?’

’If there were probability that his daughter would not be well received as your wife.  Then he asked me what would be my reception of her.’  Silverbridge looked up into his father’s face with beseeching imploring eyes as though everything now depended on the few next words that he might utter.  ’I shall think it an unwise marriage,’ said the Duke.  Silverbridge when he heard this at once knew that he had gained his cause.  His father had spoken of the marriage as a thing that was to happen.  A joyous light dawned in his eyes, and the look of pain went from his brow, all which the Duke was not slow to perceive.  ’I shall think it an unwise marriage,’ he continued, repeating his words; ’but I was bound to tell him that were Miss Boncassen to become your wife she would also become my daughter.’

‘Oh sir.’

’I told him why the marriage would be distasteful to me.  Whether I may be wrong or right I think it to be for the good of our country, for the good of our order, for the good of our individual families, that we should support each other by marriage.  It is not as though we were a narrow class, already too closely bound together by family alliances.  The room for choice might be wide enough for you without going across the Atlantic to look for her who is to be the mother of your children.  To this Mr Boncassen replied that he was to look solely to his daughter’s happiness.  He meant me to understand that he cared nothing for my feelings.  Why should he?  That which to me is deep wisdom is to him an empty prejudice.  He asked me then how others would receive her.’