“I think she would be if she knew young Eames.  I hope the day may come when she will be so.  I hope that you and I may see them happy together, and that you too may thank me for having assisted in making them so.  Shall we go in to Lady Julia now?” The earl had felt that he had not quite succeeded; that his offer had been accepted somewhat coldly, and had not much hope that further good could be done on that day, even with the help of his best port wine.

“Half a moment,” said the squire.  “There are matters as to which I never find myself able to speak quickly, and this certainly seems to be one of them.  If you will allow me I will think over what you have said, and then see you again.”

“Certainly, certainly.”

“But for your own part in the matter, for your great generosity and kind heart, I beg to offer you my warmest thanks.”  Then the squire bowed low, and preceded the earl out of the room.

Lord De Guest still felt that he had not succeeded.  We may probably say, looking at the squire’s character and peculiarities, that no marked success was probable at the first opening-out of such a subject.  He had said of himself that he was never able to speak quickly in matters of moment; but he would more correctly have described his own character had he declared that he could not think of them quickly.  As it was, the earl was disappointed; but had he been able to read the squire’s mind, his disappointment would have been less strong.  Mr Dale knew well enough that he was being treated well, and that the effort being made was intended with kindness to those belonging to him; but it was not in his nature to be demonstrative and quick at expressions of gratitude.  So he entered the drawing-room with a cold, placid face, leading Eames, and Lady Julia also, to suppose that no good had been done.

“How do you do, sir?” said Johnny, walking up to him in a wild sort of manner,—­going through a premeditated lesson, but doing it without any presence of mind.

“How do you do, Eames?” said the squire, speaking with a very cold voice.  And then there was nothing further said till the dinner was announced.

“Dale, I know you drink port,” said the earl when Lady Julia left them.  “If you say you don’t like that, I shall say you know nothing about it.”

“Ah! that’s the ’20,” said the squire, tasting it.

“I should rather think it is,” said the earl.  “I was lucky enough to get it early, and it hasn’t been moved for thirty years.  I like to give it to a man who knows it, as you do, at the first glance.  Now there’s my friend Johnny there; it’s thrown away upon him.”

“No, my lord, it is not.  I think it’s uncommonly nice.”

“Uncommonly nice!  So is champagne, or ginger-beer, or lollipops,—­for those who like them.  Do you mean to tell me you can taste wine with half a pickled orange in your mouth?”

“It’ll come to him soon enough,” said the squire.