“They tell me that Mr. Lionel is just as free with his money as his father; throws it out with both hands, horse-racing and high play, and every extravagance he can think of. Well, and if that's true, my Lady, sure it 's well worth while to think that you 'll have a decent house to put your head under when your daughter's married to Beecham. He has no wasteful ways, but can look after the main chance as well as any boy ever I seen. This notion about Miss Helen is the only thing like expense I ever knew him take up, and sure”—here he dropped his voice to soliloquy—“sure, maybe, that same will pay well, after all—ay!”
“My head! my head is bursting with blood,” sighed Lady Eleanor; but the last words alone reached Hickman's ears.
“Ay! blood's a fine thing, no doubt of it, but, faith, it won't pay interest on a mortgage; nor I never heard of it staying the execution of a writ! 'T is little good blood I had in my veins, and yet I contrived to scrape a trifle together notwithstanding—ay!”
“I do not feel myself very well, Mr. Hickman,” said Lady Eleanor; “may I request you will send my daughter to me, and excuse me if I wish you a good morning.”
“Shall I hint anything to the young lady about what we were saying?” said he, in a tone of most confidential import.
“At your peril, sir!” said Lady Eleanor, with a look that at once seemed to transfix him; and the old man, muttering his adieu, hobbled from the room, while Lady Eleanor leaned back in her chair, overcome by the conflict of her emotions.
“Is he gone?” said Lady Eleanor, faintly, as her daughter entered.
“Yes, Mamma; but are you ill? You look dreadfully pale and agitated.”
“Wearied—fatigued, my dear, nothing more. Tell Captain Forester I must release him from his engagement to us to-day; I cannot come to dinner.” And, so saying, she covered her eyes with her hand, and seemed lost in deep thought.