"Well, father, I have something to tell you."
"Something to tell me!" and then the squire's happy and gay look, which had been only rendered more happy and more gay by his assumed anxiety about the black horse, gave place to that heaviness of visage which acrimony and misfortune had made so habitual to him. "Something to tell me!" Any grave words like these always presaged some money difficulty to the squire's ears. He loved Frank with the tenderest love. He would have done so under almost any circumstances; but, doubtless, that love had been made more palpable to himself by the fact that Frank had been a good son as regards money—not exigeant as was Lady Arabella, or selfishly reckless as was his nephew Lord Porlock. But now Frank must be in difficulty about money. This was his first idea. "What is it, Frank; you have seldom had anything to say that has not been pleasant for me to hear?" And then the heaviness of visage again gave way for a moment as his eye fell upon his son.
"I have been to Boxall Hill, sir."
The tenor of his father's thoughts was changed in an instant; and the dread of immediate temporary annoyance gave place to true anxiety for his son. He, the squire, had been no party to Mary's exile from his own domain; and he had seen with pain that she had now a second time been driven from her home: but he had never hitherto questioned the expediency of separating his son from Mary Thorne. Alas! it became too necessary—too necessary through his own default—that Frank should marry money!
"At Boxall Hill, Frank! Has that been prudent? Or, indeed, has it been generous to Miss Thorne, who has been driven there, as it were, by your imprudence?"
"Father, it is well that we should understand each other about this—"
"Fill your glass, Frank;" Frank mechanically did as he was told, and passed the bottle.
"I should never forgive myself were I to deceive you, or keep anything from you."
"I believe it is not in your nature to deceive me, Frank."
"The fact is, sir, that I have made up my mind that Mary Thorne shall be my wife—sooner or later that is, unless, of course, she should utterly refuse. Hitherto, she has utterly refused me. I believe I may now say that she has accepted me."