“But who has pronounced this claim hopeless?” said Forester, impatiently.
A cold shrug of the shoulders was all Lord Netherby's reply.
“Not Miss Daly, certainly,” rejoined Forester, “who was willing to peril everything she possessed in the world upon the issue.”
The sarcasm intended by this speech was deeply felt by Lord Netherby, as with an unwonted concession to ill-humor, he replied,—
“There is nothing so courageous as indigence!”
“Better never be rich, then,” cried Forester, “if cowardice be the first lesson it teaches. But I think better of affluence than this. I saw that same Knight of Gwynne when at the head of a princely fortune; and I never, in any rank of life, under any circumstances, saw the qualities which grace and adorn the humblest more eminently displayed.”
“I quite agree with you; a more perfectly conducted household it is impossible to conceive.”
“I speak not of his retinue, nor of his graceful hospitalities, my Lord, nor even of his generous munificence and benevolence; these are rich men's gifts everywhere. I speak of his trusting, confiding temper; the hopeful trust he entertained of something good in men's natures at the moment he was smarting from their perfidy and ingratitude; the forgiveness towards those that injured, the unvarying kindness towards those that forgot him.”
“I declare,” said Lord Netherby, smiling, “I must interdict a continuance of this panegyric, now that we have arrived, for you know Colonel Darcy was a first love of Lady Netherby.”
Nothing but a courtier of Lord Netherby's stamp could have made such a speech; and while Forester became scarlet with shame and anger, a new light suddenly broke upon him, and the rancor of his mother respecting the Knight and his family was at once explained.