“You are really too good—too self-sacrificing! I, too, should consider your dear daughter’s welfare above all other interests. But, see here, Force, in the event of my ever becoming the happy husband of your eldest child, what should there be to hinder me from taking the family name? I am the younger son of such a long line of younger sons that the marquisate must be at least a hundred removes from me, or I from the marquisate, whichever you like. So your cherished hope may yet be fulfilled in me.”
“You are generous, Anglesea! I had not thought of such a concession from you. I should not have presumed to suggest it.”
“What possible concession would I not make in order not only to win the daughter, but to satisfy the father?”
“Thank you, thank you, Anglesea! I will speak to you further on the subject when I have conferred with my wife. There is my horse,” he said, glancing through the front window, “and I must be off now to meet my engagement. Good-morning.”
And Mr. Force warmly shook the hand of his guest, and left the room.
He paused in the front hall for a few moments, and seemed to fumble a good deal with his overcoat, gloves and hat before he finally appeared on the outside equipped for his journey.
Then he hastily threw himself into his saddle, and rode off, attended by his mounted groom.
Col. Anglesea walked leisurely down to the stables, chose a horse to his mind, ordered him to be saddled and brought up to the house, and then he returned to prepare himself for a “constitutional” gallop along the highroad.
Mrs. Force confined herself to her own room that day.
Odalite walked out into the woods, and then down to the seashore, followed by her faithful companion, Joshua.