“She is a very good woman,” was the earnest answer. “And Colin has the kindest heart in the world.”
I assented, though amused at the superlatives in which very young people delight; but, in this case, not so far away from truth as ordinarily happens.
“You know Colin Granton;—have you seen him lately—yesterday I mean? Did Captain Treherne see him yesterday?”
The anxiety with which the question was put reminded me of something Treherne had mentioned, which implied his rivalry with Granton; perhaps this kind-hearted damsel thought there would be a single-handed combat on our parade-ground, between the accepted and rejected swains. I allayed her fears by observing, that to my certain knowledge, Mr. Granton had gone up to London on Saturday morning, and would not return till Tuesday. Then, our eyes meeting, we both looked conscious; but, of course, neither the young lady nor myself made any allusion to present circumstances.
I said, generally, that Granton was a fine young fellow, not over sentimental, nor likely to feel anything very deeply; but gifted with great good sense, sufficient to make an admirable country-squire, and one of the best landlords in the county, if only he could be brought to feel the importance of his position.
“How do you mean?”
“His responsibility, as a man of fortune, to make the most of his wealth.”
“But how?—what is there for him to do?”
“Plenty, if he could only be got to do it.”
“Could you not get him to do it?” with another look of the eager eyes.