There is no doubt that he would not have been noble enough to do this, had he thought he had himself any chance of being successful; but still there was something chivalrous in his resolve, something magnanimous in his determination to do all he could for the happiness of her he really loved, when everything in his own prospects was gloomy, dark, and desperate.  As he entered his father’s room, feeling that it would probably be very long before he should be closeted with him again, he determined that he would not quietly bear reproaches, and even felt a source of satisfaction in the prospect of telling his father that their joint plans were overturned—­their schemes completely at an end.

“I’m disturbing you, my lord, I’m afraid,” said the son, walking into the room, not at all with the manner of one who had any hesitation at causing the disturbance.

“Who’s that?” said the earl—­“Adolphus?—­no—­yes.  That is, I’m just going to bed; what is it you want?” The earl had been dozing after all the vexations of the day.

“To tell the truth, my lord, I’ve a good deal that I wish to say:  will it trouble you to listen to me?”

“Won’t to-morrow morning do?”

“I shall leave Grey Abbey early to-morrow, my lord; immediately after breakfast.”

“Good heavens, Kilcullen! what do you mean?  You’re not going to run off to London again?”

“A little farther than that, I’m afraid, will be necessary,” said the son.  “I have offered to Miss Wyndham—­have been refused—­and, having finished my business at Grey Abbey, your lordship will probably think that in leaving it I shall be acting with discretion.”

“You have offered to Fanny and been refused!”

“Indeed I have; finally and peremptorily refused.  Not only that:  I have pledged my word to my cousin that I will never renew my suit.”

The earl sat speechless in his chair—­so much worse was this catastrophe even than his expectations.  Lord Kilcullen continued.

“I hope, at any rate, you are satisfied with me.  I have not only implicitly obeyed your directions, but I have done everything in my power to accomplish what you wished.  Had my marriage with my cousin been a project of my own, I could not have done more for its accomplishment.  Miss Wyndham’s affections are engaged; and she will never, I am sure, marry one man while she loves another.”

“Loves another—­psha!” roared the earl.  “Is this to be the end of it all?  After your promises to me—­after your engagement!  After such an engagement, sir, you come to me and talk about a girl loving another?  Loving another!  Will her loving another pay your debts?”

“Exactly the reverse, my lord,” said the son.  “I fear it will materially postpone their payment.”

“Well, sir,” said the earl.  He did not exactly know how to commence the thunder of indignation with which he intended to annihilate his son, for certainly Kilcullen had done the best in his power to complete the bargain.  But still the storm could not be stayed, unreasonable as it might be for the earl to be tempestuous on the occasion.  “Well, sir,” and he stood up from his chair, to face his victim, who was still standing—­and, thrusting his hands into his trowsers’ pockets, frowned awfully—­“Well, sir; am I to be any further favoured with your plans?”