When he had quite done, and was dead silent, and had paused sufficiently long to assure the earl that he was going to say nothing further just at present, the great man commenced his answer.

“This is a painful subject, my lord—­most peculiarly painful at the present time; but, surely, after all that has passed—­but especially after what has not passed”—­Lord Cashel thought this was a dead hit—­“you cannot consider your engagement with Miss Wyndham to be still in force?”

“Good gracious!—­and why not, my lord?  I am ready to do anything her friends—­in fact I came solely, this morning, to consult yourself, about—­I’m sure Fanny herself can’t conceive the engagement to be broken off.  Of course, if Miss Wyndham wishes it—­but I can’t believe—­I can’t believe—­if it’s about the horses, Lord Cashel, upon my word, I’m ready to sell them to-day.”

This was not very dignified in poor Frank, and to tell the truth, he was completely bothered.  Lord Cashel looked so more than ordinarily glum; had he been going to put on a black cap and pass sentence of death, or disinherit his eldest son, he could not have looked more stern or more important.  Frank’s lack of dignity added to his, and made him feel immeasurably superior to any little difficulty which another person might have felt in making the communication he was going to make.  He was really quite in a solemn good humour.  Lord Ballindine’s confusion was so flattering.

“I can assure you, my lord, Miss Wyndham calls for no such sacrifice, nor do I. There was a time when, as her guardian, I ventured to hint—­and I own I was taking a liberty, a fruitless liberty, in doing so—­that I thought your remaining on the turf was hardly prudent.  But I can assure you, with all kindly feeling—­with no approach to animosity—­that I will not offend in a similar way again.  I hear, by mere rumour, that you have extended your operations to the other kingdom.  I hope I have not been the means of inducing you to do so; but, advice, if not complied with, often gives a bias in an opposite direction.  With regard to Miss Wyndham, I must express—­and I really had thought it was unnecessary to do so, though it was certainly my intention, as it was Miss Wyndham’s wish, that I should have written to you formally on the subject—­but your own conduct—­excuse me, Lord Ballindine—­your own evident indifference, and continued, I fear I must call it, dissipation—­and your, as I considered, unfortunate selection of acquaintance, combined with the necessary diminution of that attachment which I presume Miss Wyndham once felt for you—­necessary, inasmuch as it was, as far as I understand, never of a sufficiently ardent nature to outlive the slights—­indeed, my lord, I don’t wish to offend you, or hurt your feelings—­but, I must say, the slights which it encountered—.”  Here the earl felt that his sentence was a little confused, but the viscount looked more so; and, therefore, not at all abashed by the want of a finish to his original proposition, he continued glibly enough: