“Of course not—but I’m coming to that. You see, I have no reason to doubt Fanny’s love; she has assured me of it a thousand times. I wouldn’t say so to you even, as it looks like boasting, only it’s so necessary you should know how the land lies; besides, everybody knew it; all the world knew we were engaged.”
“Oh, boasting—it’s no boasting at all: it would be very little good my going to Grey Abbey, if she had not told you so.”
“Well, I think that if you were to see Lord Cashel and tell him, in your own quiet way, who you are; that you are rector of Ballindine, and my especial friend; and that you had come all the way from County Mayo especially to see Miss Wyndham, that you might hear from herself whatever message she had to send to me—if you were to do this, I don’t think he would dare to prevent you from seeing her.”
“If he did, of course I would put it to him that you, who were so long received as Miss Wyndham’s accepted swain, were at least entitled to so much consideration at her hands; and that I must demand so much on your behalf, wouldn’t that be it, eh?”
“Exactly. I see you understand it, as if you’d been at it all your life; only don’t call me her swain.”
“Well, I’ll think of another word—her beau.”
“For Heaven’s sake, no!—that’s ten times worse.”
“Well, her lover?”
“That’s at any rate English: but say, her accepted husband—that’ll be true and plain: if you do that I think you will manage to see her, and then—”
“Well, then—for that’ll be the difficult part.”