He wished to see her well married, but did not care whom to so long as there was no blemish on his prospective son-in-law’s name. The man’s private character was nothing to him if he could boast of wealth and an ancient pedigree.
“I congratulate you, my boy,” he said, genially, to Sir Harold. “My willful beauty has been endless trouble to me. All the men at her feet, you know, and if you had not come upon the scene so opportunely, she would have struck her colors to Viscount Rivington, I verily believe. Poor fellow! It will be no end of an upset for him.”
Sir Harold frowned.
“I do not think that Elaine ever dreamed of such a thing,” he said.
“Well, well,” laughed the earl; “if you are satisfied, what does it matter? One word, my boy; deal gently with her. She is very young, and has never yet been thwarted. ‘Happy’s the wooing that’s not long a-doing,’ you know, but these sudden engagements are apt to be as quickly broken.”
Sir Harold could not forget the words of the earl for some days. The impression left from them was far from pleasant. He was giving all to the woman he loved—the past, the present, and the future—and he expected an undivided return.
So rapid had been the wooing that the plans of Margaret Nugent and Viscount Rivington had not been permitted formation. It was as impossible to keep these two apart as to keep the needle from the magnet.
An early marriage had been suggested by the impatient lover, and Elaine was not averse to anything which would please Sir Harold. She worshiped him as a being far above her, though at times his jealous fears pained her bitterly.
This takes the reader back to the opening words of our story.
Sir Harold was an almost daily visitor at Seabright Hall. His own estate was but ten miles distant, and, mounted upon his favorite horse, his had become a familiar figure to the rustics of Seabright.