That evening on his return home he found both the letters from Arabella.  As it happened he read them in the order in which they had been written, first the laughing letter, and then the one that was declared to be serious.  The earlier of the two did not annoy him much.  It contained hardly more than those former letters which had induced him to go to Mistletoe.  But the second letter opened up her entire strategy.  She had told the Duchess that she was engaged to him, and the Duchess of course would have told the Duke.  And now she wrote to him asking him to acknowledge the engagement in black and white.  The first letter he might have ignored.  He might have left it unanswered without gross misconduct.  But the second letter, which she herself had declared to be a serious epistle, was one which he could not neglect.  Now had come his difficulty.  What must he do?  How should he answer it?  Was it imperative on him to write the words with his own hand?  Would it be possible that he should get his sister to undertake the commission?  He said nothing about it to any one for four and twenty hours; but he passed those hours in much discomfort.  It did seem so hard to him that because he had been forced to carry a lady home from hunting in a post chaise, that he should be driven to such straits as this?  The girl was evidently prepared to make a fight of it.  There would be the Duke and the Duchess and that prig Mistletoe, and that idle ass Lord Augustus, and that venomous old woman her mother, all at him.  He almost doubted whether a shooting excursion in Central Africa or a visit to the Pampas would not be the best thing for him.  But still, though he should resolve to pass five years among the Andes, he must answer the lady’s letter before he went.

Then he made up his mind that he would tell everything to his brother-in-law, as far as everything can be told in such a matter.  Sir George was near fifty, full fifteen years older than his wife, who was again older than her brother.  He was a man of moderate wealth, very much respected, and supposed to be possessed of almost infinite wisdom.  He was one of those few human beings who seem never to make a mistake.  Whatever he put his hand to came out well;—­and yet everybody liked him.  His brother-in-law was a little afraid of him, but yet was always glad to see him.  He kept an excellent house in London, but having no country house of his own passed much of his time at Rufford Hall when the owner was not there.  In spite of the young peer’s numerous faults Sir George was much attached to him, and always ready to help him in his difficulties.  “Penwether,” said the Lord, “I have got myself into an awful scrape.”

“I am sorry to hear it.  A woman, I suppose,”

“Oh, yes.  I never gamble, and therefore no other scrape can be awful.  A young lady wants to marry me”

“That is not unnatural.”

“But I am quite determined, let the result be what it may, that I won’t marry the young lady.”