Hilary’s eyes widened. Was Gabriel a gentleman she needed telling about? She could have laughed at the notion had not good manners obliged her to wait dutifully for the next remark.
“His estate is very large, and is in this county; although some years your senior, he is still only in middle life, and will, I am assured, make you an excellent husband.”
“Mother!” gasped Hilary, in dismay. “What does it mean?”
“Your grandfather refers to an offer from Mr. Geers, of Garnons, which he received before that of Mr. Harford. I think, my dear, you must at least see the gentleman next week when he stays at the Palace.”
“Certainly,” said the Bishop, with decision. “And I must tell you, Hilary, that his offer is not to be lightly refused. I cannot approve of any betrothal between you and Gabriel Harford, though very naturally some idle thoughts of love may have arisen from your being so much together.”
Hilary’s breath came fast. There was a choking feeling in her throat, nothing but pride kept her from tears—pride and a determination that, cost what it might, she would never yield.
“My lord,” she said, quietly; “I will certainly see Mr. Geers if it is your wish, but do not lead him to think that I shall accept his offer—that were impossible.”
“I very much wish you to accept the offer, but of course, I will not compel you, my child,” said the Bishop. “As to this other offer, however, I altogether disapprove of the notion, and I beg that you will discontinue all intercourse with Gabriel Harford.”
“My lord, he is the man my father wished me to marry,” said Hilary. “Does that count for nothing? He is the man to whom I have given my heart, does that weigh nought with you?”
There was a break in her voice, and a quivering of her lip as she spoke. The Bishop took her hand caressingly.