"I think, Lord Ravenel,"—and the mother spoke with her "dignified" air—"you know enough of my husband's character and opinions to be assured how lightly he would hold such a disparity—if you allude to that supposed to exist between the son of the Earl of Luxmore and the daughter of John Halifax."
The young nobleman coloured, as if with ingenuous shame at what he had been implying. "I am glad of it. Let me assure you there will be no impediments on the side of my family. The earl has long wished me to marry. He knows well enough that I can marry whom I please—and shall marry for love only. Give me your leave to win your little Maud."
A dead silence.
"Again pardon me," Lord Ravenel said with some hauteur; "I cannot have clearly explained myself. Let me repeat, Mr. Halifax, that I ask your permission to win your daughter's affection, and, in due time, her hand."
"I would that you had asked of me anything that it could be less impossible to give you."
"Impossible! What do you mean?—Mrs. Halifax—" He turned instinctively to the woman—the mother.
Ursula's eyes were full of a sad kindness—the kindness any mother must feel towards one who worthily woos her daughter—but she replied distinctly—
"I feel, with my husband, that such a marriage would be impossible."
Lord Ravenel grew scarlet—sat down—rose again, and stood facing them, pale and haughty.
"If I may ask—your reasons?"