“I don’t quite understand you, my lord,” said his son, affecting ignorance of his father’s meaning.

“I mean, you can’t stand better than you do with Fanny:  you’ve certainly played your cards admirably, and she’s a charming girl, a very charming girl, and I long to know that she’s your own.  Take my advice and ask her at once.”

“My lord,” said the dutiful son, “if I’m to carry on this affair, I must be allowed to do it in my own way.  You, I dare say, have more experience than I can boast, and if you choose to make the proposal yourself to Miss Wyndham on my behalf, I shall be delighted to leave the matter in your hands; but in that case, I shall choose to be absent from Grey Abbey.  If you wish me to do it, you must let me do it when I please and how I please.”

“Oh, certainly, certainly, Kilcullen,” said the earl; “I only want to point out that I think you’ll gain nothing by delay.”

“Very well, my lord.  Good night.”  And Lord Kilcullen went to bed, and the father shuffled back to his study.  He had had three different letters that day from Lord Kilcullen’s creditors, all threatening immediate arrest unless he would make himself responsible for his son’s debts.  No wonder that he was in a hurry, poor man!

And Lord Kilcullen, though he had spoken so coolly on the subject, and had snubbed his father, was equally in a hurry.  He also received letters, and threats, and warnings, and understood, even better than his father did, the perils which awaited him.  He knew that he couldn’t remain at Grey Abbey another week; that in a day or two it wouldn’t be safe for him to leave the house; and that his only chance was at once to obtain the promise of his cousin’s hand, and then betake himself to some place of security, till he could make her fortune available.

When Fanny came into the breakfast-room next morning, he asked her to walk with him in the demesne after breakfast.  During the whole of the previous evening she had sat silent and alone, pretending to read, although he had made two or three efforts to engage her in conversation.  She could not, however, refuse to walk with him, nor could she quite forgive herself for wishing to do so.  She felt that her sudden attachment for him was damped by what had passed between her and Lady Selina; but she knew, at the same time, that she was very unreasonable for quarrelling with one cousin for what another had said.  She accepted his invitation, and shortly after breakfast went upstairs to get ready.  It was a fine, bright, April morning, though the air was cold, and the ground somewhat damp; so she put on her boa and strong boots, and sallied forth with Lord Kilcullen; not exactly in a good humour, but still feeling that she could not justly be out of humour with him.  At the same moment, Lady Selina knocked at her father’s door, with the intention of explaining to him how impossible it was that Fanny should be persuaded to marry her brother.  Poor Lord Cashel! his life, at that time, was certainly not a happy one.