“You must remember one thing; in helping you over this stile, which will be really a matter of no inconvenience to me, I have a better right than that even of an old friend; I look upon you now as my brother-in-law.”
Mark turned slowly round, plainly showing the tears upon his face.
“Do you mean,” said he, “that anything more has taken place?”
“I mean to make your sister my wife; she sent me word by you to say that she loved me, and I am not going to stand upon any nonsense after that. If she and I are both willing no one alive has a right to stand between us; and, by heavens, no one shall. I will do nothing secretly, so I tell you that, exactly as I have told her ladyship.”
“But what does she say?”
“She says nothing; but it cannot go on like that. My mother and I cannot live here together if she opposes me in this way. I do not want to frighten your sister by going over to her at Hogglestock, but I expect you to tell her so much as I now tell you, as coming from me; otherwise she will think that I have forgotten her.”
“She will not think that.”
“She need not; good-bye, old fellow. I’ll make it all right between you and her ladyship about this affair of Sowerby’s.”
And then he took his leave and walked off to settle about the payment of the money.
“Mother,” said he to Lady Lufton that evening, “you must not bring this affair of the bailiffs up against Robarts. It has been more my fault than his.”