“Then you are not pleased with the connexion?”
Sir Within drew a long sigh, and said: “It is no affair of mine. His father will, perhaps, not like it.”
“How did it come about? Where did it take place?”
“Nothing—nothing but misery before her!” muttered the old man, unheeding his question.
“Do you think he will treat her ill?”
“A life of sorrow—of sorrow and shame!” murmured he, still lower. “Poor girl!—poor unhappy girl!”
Grenfell was silent, and the other, after a pause, went on:
“His father is sure to be displeased; he is a violent man, too, and one can’t say to what lengths temper may carry him. And all this will fall upon her!”
“Do you think so?”
“I know him well!” He mused for several minutes, and then said to himself: “I could not—I could not—not for worlds!” And then aloud: “But I could leave this—leave the Castle, and let them come here. How she loved it once! Oh, if you knew how happy she was here!” He covered his face with his hands, and lay thus a considerable time.