“You'll have to effect it in half that time, sir,” said she, solemnly.
“Well, I don't despair of that same, if I have only your Ladyship's promise to all that is set down there. I 'll neither eat nor sleep till the matter is in good train.”
“I repeat, sir, that if this settlement be not accomplished in less than a week from the present moment, it may prove utterly valueless.”
“I can only say I'll do my best, my Lady. I'd be on the road this minute, if your Ladyship would dismiss me.”
“Very well, sir,—you are free. I pledge myself to the full conditions of this letter. Captain Martin binds himself equally to observe them.”
“I 'd like it in writing under your Ladyship's hand,” said Scanlan, in a half whisper, as though afraid to speak such doubts aloud. “It is not that I have the least suspicion or misgiving in life about your Ladyship's word,—I'd take it for a million of money,—but when I come to make my proposals in person to Miss Mary—”
“There, sir, that will do!” said she, with a disdainful look, as if to repress an explanation so disagreeable. “You need not enter further upon the question. If you address me by letter, I will reply to it.”
“There it is, my Lady,” said he, producing a sealed epistle, and placing it on the table before her. “I had it ready, just not to be losing time. My London address is inside; and if you'll write to me by to-morrow's post,—or the day after,” added he, remarking a movement of impatience in her face—“You shall have your bond, sir,—you shall have your bond,” broke she in, haughtily.
“That ought to be enough, I think,” said the Captain, with a degree of irritation that bespoke a long internal conflict.
“I want nothing beyond what I shall earn, Captain Martin,” said Scanlan, as a flash of angry meaning covered his features.