"A very nice girl, Miss Beatrice; very nice."
Now Mr Oriel was a modest man, and, when thus addressed as to his future wife, found it difficult to make any reply.
"You parsons always have your own luck," said Sir Louis. "You get all the beauty, and generally all the money, too. Not much of the latter in this case, though—eh?"
Mr Oriel was dumbfounded. He had never said a word to any creature as to Beatrice's dowry; and when Mr Gresham had told him, with sorrow, that his daughter's portion must be small, he had at once passed away from the subject as one that was hardly fit for conversation, even between him and his future father-in-law; and now he was abruptly questioned on the subject by a man he had never before seen in his life. Of course, he could make no answer.
"The squire has muddled his matters most uncommonly," continued Sir Louis, filling his glass for the second time before he passed the bottle. "What do you suppose now he owes me alone; just at one lump, you know?"
Mr Oriel had nothing for it but to run. He could make no answer, nor would he sit there to hear tidings as to Mr Gresham's embarrassments. So he fairly retreated, without having said one word to his neighbour, finding such discretion to be the only kind of valour left to him.
"What, Oriel! off already?" said the squire. "Anything the matter?"
"Oh, no; nothing particular. I'm not just quite—I think I'll go out for a few minutes."
"See what it is to be in love," said the squire, half-whispering to Dr Thorne. "You're not in the same way, I hope?"
Sir Louis then shifted his seat again, and found himself next to Frank. Mr Gazebee was opposite to him, and the doctor opposite to Frank.