The Duke waved his hand in the direction in which the lovers had disappeared.
“I never said anything implying that I should object to make a friend of your brother,” protested Sir Bernard hastily, trying to ward off the unwelcome suggestion.
The Minister treated this evasion with contempt.
“My brother has been wiser than I, it appears. He has made sure of Miss Vanbrugh’s consent before asking for yours.”
“I hope you are mistaken!” cried the father, now seriously alarmed. “I am sure you must be. I know every thought in my daughter’s mind.”
“Is it possible that you, a wise man, can believe that?”
“I am certain that she has never had a secret from me before.”
“Then it is serious indeed.”
The justice of the remark silenced Vanbrugh. He struggled in vain to resist the conviction that the Duke of Trent was right. A hundred trifling indications of the understanding between the lovers returned upon his mind, like water pouring in through a leak.
“Damn the young blackguard!” he growled. “He is just the sort that attracts good women. They think that they can ‘save’ him. I ought to have remembered that.”