“I cannot think of politics at present. I should be no help to you.”
“Your mother and Annabel are thinking of going to Germany. I wish you would persuade them to stop at home. Is Annabel sick? I am told she is.”
“I do not know, sir.”
“You might trouble yourself to inquire.”
“Father, I have never at any time disobeyed you. Permit me to marry the woman I love. In all else, I follow where you lead.”
“Piers, my dear son, if my wisdom is sufficient for ‘all else,’ can you not trust it in this matter? Miss Atheling is an impossibility,–mind, I say an impossibility,–now, and to-morrow, and in all the future. That is enough about Miss Atheling. Good-afternoon! I feel far from well, and I will try what a gallop may do for me.”
Piers bowed; he could not speak. His heart beat at his lips; he was choking with emotion. The very attitude of the Duke filled him with despair. It permitted of no argument; it would allow of no hope. He knew the Squire’s mood was just as inexorable as his father’s. Mrs. Atheling had defined the position very well, when she called the two men, “upper and nether millstones.” Kate and he were now between them. And there was only one way out of the situation supposable. If Kate was willing, they could marry without permission. The Rector of Belward would not be difficult to manage; for the Duke had nothing to do with Belward; it was in the gift of Mrs. Atheling. On some appointed morning Kate could meet him before the little altar. Love has ways and means and messengers; and his face flushed, and a kind of angry hope came into his heart as this idea entered it. Just then, he did not consider how far Kate would fall below his best thoughts if it were possible to persuade her to such clandestine disobedience.
The Duke was pleased with himself. He felt that he had settled the disagreeable question promptly and kindly; and he was cantering cheerfully across Belward Bents, when he came suddenly face to face with Squire Atheling. The surprise was not pleasant; but he instantly resolved to turn it to service.
“Squire,” he said, with a forced heartiness, “well met! I thank you for your co-operation. In forbidding Lord Exham your daughter’s society, you have done precisely what I wished you to do.”
“There is no ‘co-operation’ in the question, Duke. I considered only Miss Atheling’s rights and happiness. And what I have done, was not done for any wish of yours, but to satisfy myself. Lord Exham is your business, not mine.”