"Now, Guy, walk beside me. I have much to say to you. From your last letter I have concluded that you are at length weary of wandering, and mean to take your proper place in the world again. I hope it is so. Aymer is a fool, without an idea in his head beyond hunting and shooting, and he insists upon marrying Lady Anne Villiers—do you remember her?—the daughter of a man I never can get on with for five minutes. I look to you, Guy, to bring honour to the family. I will get you into Parliament, and make a man of you, if you will only use your brains for something practical. All this archæological and antiquarian and philological nonsense—only fit for magazine articles—will never really advance you a step; and you used to have ambition, Guy."
"Had I, sir? Well, I am as anxious as you can wish to begin a more settled life and to increase my income."
"I'm glad to hear it, very glad. Then you will be pleased with my plan for you, which will at once give you 20,000£. a year, and open a career for you in Parliament."
Guy stared. He knew that Sir Aymer could not give more than that, if so much, to his elder son.
"I don't think I understand you, sir," he said.
Sir Aymer laughed: he was in a wondrously pleasant humour.
"Did you wonder why I desired you to come here, instead of answering your question, as you asked me to do, in writing? Come here, Guy—come this way."
He walked on a little beyond his usual place for turning, to a window near the corner of the house. It was the window of what had been his daughter's sitting-room, and Guy hung back and turned pale, but Sir Aymer laid his hand on his shoulder and pushed him on.
"Look in!" he said, in the well-remembered tone of command.
Guy looked in, and saw a young lady reading quietly in the pretty room he knew so well. A bright, handsome girl about eighteen; but I need not describe her, as she has nothing more to do with this story after the hasty glance Guy cast upon her before his father drew him back.