“What! have him dangling after her? That’s no way to make her forget him.”
“She never will under direct opposition—she is too high-spirited for that; but if we leave it alone, and they are unpledged, there is a fair chance of her seeing the folly both for her and for him.”
“I don’t know that. Lena may be high-flown; but things go deep with the child—deeper than they did with you, Camilla!”
Perhaps this was a stab, for there was bitterness in the answer. “You mean that she is less willing to give up a fancy for the family good. Remember, it is doubly imperative that Lena should marry a man whose means are in his own power, so that he could advance something. This would be simply ruin—throwing up the whole thing, after all I have done to retrieve our position.”
“After all, Camilla, I am growing an old man, and poor Tom is gone. I don’t know that the position is worth so much to me as the happiness to her, poor child!” said Sir Harry, wistfully.
“Happiness!” was the scornful answer. “If you said ‘her own way,’ it would be nearer the truth. A back street in London—going about in a cab—and occasional holidays on sufferance from Mrs. Poynsett.”
However little happiness either father or daughter had derived from their chosen ways, this idea was abhorrent to both; and Lady Tyrrell pressed her advantage. “If we keep him waiting much longer he will be rushing after Lena, and if you show the least sign of relenting he will insist on dragging you to an interview with his mother.”
The threat was effectual; for Sir Harry had had passages-at arms enough with Mrs. Poynsett to make him dread her curt dry civility far more than either dun or bailiff, and he was at once roused to the determination to be explicit.
Frank met him, with crimson face and prepared speech. “Good morning, Sir Harry! I am afraid you may think that you have reason to complain of my not having spoken to you sooner; but I trusted to your previous knowledge of my feelings, and I was anxious to ascertain my position before laying it before you, though I don’t believe I should have succeeded unless my mind had been set at rest.”
Soft-hearted Sir Harry muttered, “I understand, but—”