The young man felt that she spoke the truth; the very tones of her voice thrilled him with a tender conviction.
"I will write to Hope," he said; "it must end in that or absence. It shall not be my fault, Rachael, if I ever go far away from you again."
Lady Hope took her brother's hand between hers.
"That is kind, and I really think the only wise thing to be done," she said. "Hope knows that you were born a gentleman."
"And having married into the family himself, can hardly say that it is not good enough for his daughter. This is answer enough for all objections of that kind. In fact, Rachael, I begin to think we can make out a tolerable claim. Now that we have decided on the letter, I will write it at once, here, if you will let me order more lights."
Hepworth rang the bell as he spoke, and directly wax candles were burning on the ebony desk at which Lady Hope was accustomed to write.
Having made up his mind, Closs was not the man to hesitate in doing the thing he had resolved on. He spread a sheet of paper before him, and began his letter at once. Rachael watched him earnestly as his pen flew over the paper.
For the first time she realized, with a pang of apprehension, the step she was so blindly encouraging. What if Lord Hope took offense at the letter, or should condemn her for the intimacy which had led to it? She was afraid of her husband, and each movement of Hepworth's pen struck her with dread. Had she, indeed, laid herself open to the wrath of a man, who was so terrible in his anger, that it made even her brave heart cower?
"There, it is finished," said Hepworth, addressing his letter, and flinging down the pen. "Now let us throw aside care, and be happy as we can till the answer comes."
Lady Hope sighed heavily, and, reaching forth her hand, bade him good-night.