‘Apparently Rose has swallowed it,’ she said.

‘Goose, shears, cabbage, and all!’ muttered Old Tom.  ’Got a stomach!—­ she knows he’s a tailor, then?  The young fellow told her?  He hasn’t been playing the lord to her?’

’As far as he’s concerned, I think he has been tolerably honest, Tom, for a man and a lover.’

‘And told her he was born and bound a tailor?’

‘Rose certainly heard it from him.’

Slapping his knee, Old Tom cried:  ‘Bravo!’ For though one part of his nature was disappointed, and the best part of his plot disarranged, he liked Evan’s proceeding and felt warm at what seemed to him Rose’s scorn of rank.

‘She must be a good gal, my lady.  She couldn’t have got it from t’ other side.  Got it from you.  Not that you—­’

‘No,’ said Lady Jocelyn, apprehending him.  ’I’m afraid I have no Republican virtues.  I ’m afraid I should have rejected the pill.  Don’t be angry with me,’ for Old Tom looked sour again; ’I like birth and position, and worldly advantages, and, notwithstanding Rose’s pledge of the instrument she calls her heart, and in spite of your offer, I shall, I tell you honestly, counsel her to have nothing to do with—­’

‘Anything less than lords,’ Old Tom struck in.  ’Very well.  Are you going to lock her up, my lady?’

‘No.  Nor shall I whip her with rods.’

‘Leave her free to her choice?’

’She will have my advice.  That I shall give her.  And I shall take care that before she makes a step she shall know exactly what it leads to.  Her father, of course, will exercise his judgement.’ (Lady Jocelyn said this to uphold the honour of Sir Franks, knowing at the same time perfectly well that he would be wheedled by Rose.) ’I confess I like this Mr. Harrington.  But it’s a great misfortune for him to have had a notorious father.  A tailor should certainly avoid fame, and this young man will have to carry his father on his back.  He ’ll never throw the great Mel off.’

Tom Cogglesby listened, and was really astonished at her ladyship’s calm reception of his proposal.

‘Shameful of him! shameful!’ he muttered perversely:  for it would have made him desolate to have had to change his opinion of her ladyship after cherishing it, and consoling himself with it, five-and-twenty years.  Fearing the approach of softness, he prepared to take his leave.

’Now—­your servant, my lady.  I stick to my word, mind:  and if your people here are willing, I—­I ’ve got a candidate up for Fall’field—­ I’ll knock him down, and you shall sneak in your Tory.  Servant, my lady.’

Old Tom rose to go.  Lady Jocelyn took his hand cordially, though she could not help smiling at the humility of the cobbler’s son in his manner of speaking of the Tory candidate.

‘Won’t you stop with us a few days?’

’I ‘d rather not, I thank ye.’

‘Won’t you see Rose?’