“I do—­nobody better.  That is why I am letting you do a lot of things that won’t benefit you, but just the opposite—­things you will repent of horribly by-and-by.  Knowing your independent spirit, I do not offer my advice—­”

“Oh!”

“Not effectively.  I do not force it upon you.  I do not bring my undoubted powers to bear upon you for your good—­”

“Ah!”

“Because I know, of course, that you would rather suffer anything than be guided by me.”

She softened instantly.  “I am not such a fool, I hope.  But—­but you will bring friendship into business.  You did things for my father that you know you would never have dreamt of doing for strangers—­that you never ought to have done at all; and now you want to be twice as idiotically generous to us, because we are girls, and out of pity for us—­to do us a kindness, as it is called—­when, if you only knew—­”

She had risen and drifted to him where he stood, and now laid a hand on his arm.  He put a hand over it, and looked into her pleading eyes.  He seemed not to have heard her last remark, to be far away in mind from the point of discussion, and his fixed and strange gaze perplexed and then embarrassed her.  “How he feels our going!” she thought to herself, and turned her face from his, and tried to turn his apparently sad thoughts.

“If you would only let me sell Redford to somebody else, and have the lump money to pay all the debts in a plain way that I could understand, and take the remainder for ourselves, and know that we were straight and free, I would do anything you liked to ask me in return!”

He still kept silence, and that tight grasp upon her hand.  So she looked at him again; and his far-away stare was bewildering.

“I wonder,” said he slowly—­“I wonder, if I were to take you at your word, whether you would stick to it?”

“Try me,” said she.

“I will.  Deborah Pennycuick, if I let you sell Redford, and pay all debts with your own hands, will you—­I am your godfather, and something over fifty, and it is quite preposterous, of course, but still you said anything—­will you be my wife?”

“Oh!” This was the unexpected happening, with a vengeance.  Never had she imagined such a notion on the part of this staid and venerable person.  She flushed hotly, and wrenched her imprisoned hand free.  “I don’t like stupid jokes,” she muttered, overcome with confusion.  “Do I give you the impression that I am joking?” he asked.

“If you are serious, that is worse,” said she.  “Then I know you are only trying another way of providing for me.”

“You believe I have only just thought of it?”

“Haven’t you?”

“I have thought of it since you were fifteen, my dear.  But never mind.  We will call it a joke, if you think that the least of two evils.  I see you do.  The incident is closed.  The bargain is off.  And I can buy Redford when it is put up for sale.  Goodbye, goddaughter.  No, I can’t stay to lunch today; I have some business to attend to.  But of course I shall see you again before you go.”