Colonel Crayfield glowered. Confound the old devil; there must be an end to this croaking, these distasteful forebodings. Assuming indifference, he stretched out his legs. The chair wobbled ominously, and rising with precautionary haste, he began to pace backwards and forwards before his aged adversary. Her opposition was so unexpected!
"It seems to me," he said, keeping his temper with an effort, "that Stella would be infinitely better off as my wife than if she stayed here, perhaps to marry beneath her, perhaps never to marry at all? I can't take her to India as my ward or as my adopted daughter. I'm not quite old enough for that!"
"How old are you?" inquired grandmamma spitefully.
"Not much over fifty," he told her, with disarming readiness, "and I flatter myself that I am young for my age. I am well off; I am willing to make suitable provision for my widow. What more can you want?" He spoke now with truculence.
"Well, I suppose you must cut your own throat, if you are so minded," said grandmamma; "but perhaps Stella may not care to marry a man old enough to be her father—even, to stretch a point, her grandfather!"
"We shall see!" was his confident answer.
The old lady sat silent. She was deeply disappointed, so convinced had she felt that it was Ellen he was after, and that Stella would be going to India beneath Ellen's safe wing. It was so seldom her wishes were thwarted, so seldom her disapproval of anything bore no weight.
Presently she said, "And when do you suggest that this extraordinary marriage should take place?"
"Just as soon as it can all be arranged. I may say that I wish to be responsible for Stella's outfit—indeed, for all expenses."