“I implore you.”
“But if I am mistaken; if I should say something nonsensical.”
“My friend, my friend, go on.”
“Well, as I was saying, my lord, can I be so fortunate as to find your lordship in love with my sister?”
Sir John gave a cry of joy, and with a rapid movement, of which so phlegmatic a man might have been thought incapable, he threw himself in Roland’s arms.
“Your sister is an angel, my dear Roland,” he exclaimed, “and I love her with all my heart.”
“Are you entirely free to do so, my lord?”
“Entirely. For the last twelve years, as I told you, I have had my fortune under my own control; it amounts to twenty-five thousand pounds sterling a year.”
“Too much, my dear fellow, for a woman who can only bring you fifty thousand francs.”
“Oh!” said the Englishman, with that national accent that returned to him occasionally in moments of strong excitement, “if I must get rid of a part of it, I can do so.”