"Among—pardon me, my dear madame, not gentlemen—members, we will say, of a gentlemanly profession."
Sir Oswald took from his gold snuff-box a pinch of most delicately-flavored snuff, and looked as though he thought the very existence of such people a mistake.
"Any little influence that you may possess over my niece, Miss Hastings, will you kindly use in Captain Langton's favor? Of course, if anything should come of my plan—as I fervently hope there may—I shall stipulate that the engagement lasts two years. During that time I shall trust to the influence of love to change my niece's character."
It was only a fresh complication—one from which Miss Hastings did not expect much.
That same day, during dinner, Sir Oswald told his niece of the expected arrival of Captain Langton.
"I have seen so few English gentlemen," she remarked, "that he will be a subject of some curiosity to me."
"You will find him—that is, if he resembles his father—a high-bred, noble gentleman," said Sir Oswald, complacently.
"Is he clever?" she asked. "What does he do?"
"Do!" repeated Sir Oswald. "I do not understand you."
"Does he paint pictures or write books?"