Lord Ilfracombe looked grave.
‘I am sorry to refuse any request of your father’s, but I really don’t see my way to it. I am not a friend of Sir Archibald’s, you see. I am quite a new acquaintance, and I know nothing of his monetary affairs. I am afraid he would resent any interference on my part as a liberty.’
‘I told father so, replied Nell, whose eyes were fixed on the earl all the time. ‘I thought just the same myself, but he was so obstinate. I did not know how to refuse him, without—raising his suspicions.’
‘Ah—!’ replied Ilfracombe, thoughtfully, ‘now, don’t you see the imprudence of refusing to accept any settlement at my hands, Nell? You might have helped your father in this emergency.’
‘Not with your money, Lord Ilfracombe, given in such a cause. You don’t know my father. He would have died sooner than have taken it.’
‘Like his daughter,’ said the earl; ‘well, you don’t know how unhappy you have made me by refusing all assistance at my hands; and since I met you the other evening and learned that you were alive, you have occupied all my thoughts, Nell. I will tell you what I will do, if possible. I will ask Sir Archibald Bowmant if he will sell me Panty-cuckoo Farm, and if he will part with the property, and I become your father’s landlord, he need not fear my raising the rent to him, I should feel much more inclined to lower it. And then some day, Nell, when you marry, as I have done, you will let me settle the old farm on you as a wedding present, and set my poor conscience at rest for evermore, won’t you?’
Nell set her teeth hard together as she replied,—
‘Would you like to see me married, would it make you happier?’
There was not much need for him to answer, the light that illumined his whole face at the idea was sufficient answer.
‘Is there any chance of it?’ he asked her, eagerly.