'What do you mean, papa?' said Freda, effectually roused.
'Well, my dear, it is thought—I mean, I have fancied—I mean Lady—I—I—the fact is, are you attached to Rowland Prothero? Now, I am not angry, Freda; he is one of the nicest young men, and the best—but I should have preferred Gwynne, or Sir Hugh, or—or—in fact, many others, in a worldly point of view. A tenant's son, and only a curate!—and all that sort of thing. But then as Lady—as—as I—as your father, my dear, I should like to make you happy. You see, that day at the vicarage, we—that is to say, I—thought there was something peculiar in his manner and yours; and to be sure, he may be a bishop, he is so good and clever. A great favourite of mine. And if he lives in London, it doesn't so much matter; and—and—in short—Freda—'
'Papa, I understand,' said Freda, rising from her seat with majestic pride, 'Lady Mary has been kind enough to suggest, doubtless for her own ends, what never could have entered your mind. I am very much obliged to you for forgetting, on my account, what I cannot forget on my own, that I am a Gwynne of Glanyravon! and I daresay you meant it kindly. But you may make my compliments to Lady Mary Nugent, and tell her, that if there was anything peculiar in Rowland Prothero's manner on that particular Sunday, it was because he had been bold enough to propose for me, and I had rejected him. You may tell her also that if he had asked her daughter instead, she would have given him herself and her fortune quite as willingly, and, I believe, more willingly, than to Colonel Vaughan. With her it is a case of "first come first served."'
When Freda had given her message to Lady Mary Nugent, she walked out of the room. But scarcely had she crossed the hall when she turned again and re-entered it.
'Papa, I must beg you not to tell Lady Mary Nugent that Rowland Prothero proposed for me. He is at least a gentleman, and a man of honour, and deserves to be treated as such with all due courtesy. The more I see of men, the more I begin to think him one of the few true gentlemen one meets with. I should not even have told you this had it not escaped me in reply to what you said, because I thought it would annoy you, and perhaps make you feel unkindly towards the Prothero family. But you may tell her, if you like, that were Rowland Prothero not the gentleman I begin to perceive he is, Miss Nugent and her money might be his.'
'But, Freda—after all—if you do like him. You see, his uncle married a Perry, one of the oldest families in Herefordshire, niece of the baronet, daughter of the dean, cousin of the present baronet.'
'My dear father! I know all the Perrys by heart. Mrs Jonathan is not likely to have left me ignorant of their antiquity. But, pray, do you want to get rid of me, that you force me upon poor Rowland, or him upon me, whichever it may be?'
'Of course not, my dear. Only I am naturally anxious to see you settled. And if you really like him—'
'But I am settled, and I do not like him; that is to say, I like him well enough, fifty times better than I used to like him, but I have not the most remote intention of marrying him. And now, I should like to know what particular reason Lady Mary Nugent had for putting this absurd notion into your head. There must be something, my dear papa, under all this sudden anxiety to get me married. You used rather to rejoice when I declined settling Glanyravon on a suitor.'
'Yes, my dear—but—you see—it is not quite certain that Glanyravon—I mean that you—I mean that I—in short—the fact is—you are so impetuous, Freda.'