"The good angel in question was Lord Linden," answered the count, quite seriously. "His lordship called this morning. I left him with my mother."
"Lord Linden?"
"Yes, it was at his suggestion that I hastened here; not that I thought any influence of mine was needed; but just now it is well to keep in with every one, and you must oblige me by permitting Lord Linden to imagine that it was through my advocacy you were induced to look favorably upon his suit."
"That is impossible."
"Not at all; a mere suggestion in your letter will have the desired effect. You have not answered Lord Linden's letter yet,—have you."
"No,—I intend to reply this morning, and"—
"That's right! You will grant me this favor, I know you will! Say that after having conversed with me, you accept the offer of his hand."
"I mean to decline it in the most definite manner."
"Decline?" cried Count Tristan, breathing hard, while his face rapidly changed color; for at one moment it was overspread with a death-like pallor, and then, suddenly grew purple. "Decline? Such a thing is not to be thought of; you are jesting?"
"I was never more serious in my life."