“Then I advise you to order a new blue coat, and to buy a wedding-ring.”
“Confusion!” cried Frank, stamping his foot; and turning away in a passion; and then he took up his hat, to rush out of the room, in which the latter part of the conversation had taken place.
“Stop a minute, Frank,” said Blake, “and don’t be in a passion. What I said was only meant to show you how easy I think it is for you to marry Miss Wyndham if you choose.”
“Easy! and every soul at Grey Abbey turned against me, in consequence of my owning that brute of a horse! I’ll go over there at once, and I’ll show Lord Cashel that at any rate he shall not treat me like a child. As for Kilcullen, if he interferes with me or my name in any way, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?—thrash him?”
“Indeed, I’d like nothing better!”
“And then shoot him—be tried by your peers—and perhaps hung; is that it?”
“Oh, that’s nonsense. I don’t wish to fight any one, but I am not going to be insulted.”
“I don’t think you are: I don’t think there’s the least chance of Kilcullen insulting you; he has too much worldly wisdom. But to come back to Miss Wyndham: if you really mean to marry her, and if, as I believe, she is really fond of you, Lord Cashel and all the family can’t prevent it. She is probably angry that you have not been over there; he is probably irate at your staying here, and, not unlikely, has made use of her own anger to make her think that she has quarrelled with you; and hence Kilcullen’s report.”
“And what shall I do now?”