“Nothing but what you’ve told me.”
“I’ve just seen Mat Tierney, and he told me that Kilcullen had declared, at a large dinner-party, yesterday, that the match between me and his cousin was finally broken off.”
“You wouldn’t believe what Mat Tierney would say? Mat was only taking a rise out of you.”
“Not at all: he was not only speaking seriously, but he told me what I’m very sure was the truth, as far as Lord Kilcullen was concerned. I mean, I’m sure Kilcullen said it, and in the most public manner he could; and now, the question is, what had I better do?”
“There’s no doubt as to what you’d better do; the question is what you’d rather do?”
“But what had I better do? call on Kilcullen for an explanation?”
“That’s the last thing to think of. No; but declare what he reports to be the truth; return Miss Wyndham the lock of hair you have in your desk, and next your heart, or wherever you keep it; write her a pretty note, and conclude by saying that the ‘Adriatic’s free to wed another’. That’s what I should do.”
“It’s very odd, Blake, that you won’t speak seriously to a man for a moment. You’ve as much heart in you as one of your own horses. I wish I’d never come to this cursed lodge of yours. I’d be all right then.”
“As for my heart, Frank, if I have as much as my horses, I ought to be contented—for race-horses are usually considered to have a good deal; as for my cursed lodge, I can assure you I have endeavoured, and, if you will allow me, I will still endeavour, to make it as agreeable to you as I am able; and as to my speaking seriously, upon my word, I never spoke more so. You asked me what I thought you had better do—and I began by telling you there would be a great difference between that and what you’d rather do.”
“But, in heaven’s name, why would you have me break off with Miss Wyndham, when every one knows I’m engaged to her; and when you know that I wish to marry her?”