“No,” replied Roland, laughing, “that’s not necessary. You’re rich; it’s unfortunate, but what’s to be done?—No, that’s not the question. Do you love my sister?”
“I adore her.”
“And she,” resumed Roland, “does she love you?”
“Of course you understand,” returned Sir John, “that I have not asked her. I was bound, my dear Roland, to speak to you first, and if the matter were agreeable, to beg you to plead my cause with your mother. After I have obtained the consent of both, I shall make my offer. Or rather, you will make it for me, for I should never dare.”
“Then I am the first to receive your confidence?”
“You are my best friend, and it ought to be so.”
“Well, my dear friend, as far as I am concerned, your suit is won—naturally.”
“Your mother and sister remain.”
“They will be one. You understand that my mother will leave Amélie free to make her own choice; and I need not tell you that if it falls upon you she will be delighted. But there is a person whom you have forgotten.”
“Who is that?” said Sir John, in the tone of a man who, having weighed all chances for and against, believes he knows them all, and is met by an obstacle he has never thought of.