"How could it be otherwise?" answered Lord Hope, sadly.
There was something in Hope's voice that touched Hepworth Closs with feelings akin to those he had felt for the proud young man years ago.
"This was the language I used to my sister the night before she became your wife," he said.
"Oh, my God! if she had but listened—if she had but listened!"
"Lord Hope! do I understand? Has your marriage with Rachael Closs come to this?"
"Hepworth, we will not discuss this subject. It is one which belongs exclusively to Lady Hope and myself."
"But she is my sister!"
"Between a husband and wife no relative has claims."
"Lord Hope, I was once your friend."
"I have not forgotten it. Unfortunately for us both, you were. I do not say this ungratefully. On the contrary, I am about to appeal to that old friendship once more. You ask for my daughter. To give her to a brother of Rachael Closs would be the bitterest insult I could offer the old lady at Houghton. It would close our last hopes of a reconciliation. The estates, in doubt now, would be eternally lost. I cannot afford this. Oakhurst is strictly entailed; I am heavily in debt, so heavily, that we are compelled to practise the most harassing economy. From me Clara will inherit nothing; from her grandmother worse than nothing if she dies offended with us. I am told that she is relenting—that she has been heard to speak kindly of Clara. Can you ask me to insult her over again, knowing all the wrong I have done her, all the ruin it would bring on my child?"