“To Broxbridge Hall—to my residence. My grand-daughter would do everything in her power to make her life as cheerful and happy as possible.”
The farmer was astonished. The great Lord Ethalwood to invite his daughter as a guest at his manorial residence!
It was hardly credible. He did not know what reply to make.
Lord Ethalwood was reported to be proud to a fault, and such condescension on his part was, therefore, the more surprising.
“I beg yer pardon, my lord. It be very kind on ye to do my poor gell so much honour, but——”
“Well, Jamblin, but what, my friend?”
“She’s as good a gell as ever cheered a father’s heart, but she aint fit company for thee or thine. It be kind and considerate of you, my lord, an’ I shall never forget this offer, which, after all, you would not think it right of me to accept.”
“I am not in the habit of making any offer or giving any invitation with the idea that it will be declined,” said the Earl, haughtily. “I wish and desire Miss Jamblin to be my guest for a few days—or it may be a few weeks. At Broxbridge new scenes will be opened to her, and these will do much in assuaging her grief. Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Jamblin, I shall be glad to receive her. She will be a companion to my grand-daughter Aveline.”
The farmer’s breath appeared to be taken away; he made no reply, but bowed in a manner, which, under any other circumstances, would have been extremely comic.
“You will make her acquainted with my wishes, and assure her that she is not asked out of mere compliment,” said the earl, in continuation. “If she feels herself well enough to leave home my grand-daughter will receive her to-morrow, or as soon afterwards as may be agreeable to herself. Make it agreeable to yourselves. And, touching the other matter—I mean with regard to Wrench—that I will see to.”