“Very different, sir.”
“Some one, perhaps, whom you would have considered better suited to him?”
“Much better suited, sir.”
Mr. Cornthwaite’s face clouded.
“Whom do you mean?”
Bram only hesitated a moment. He could do Christian no harm now by telling the truth; and he had a lingering hope that he might bring old Mr. Cornthwaite to see the matter with his own eyes.
“Sir,” said he, “have you never suspected your son of any attachment, any serious attachment, to a lady as good as Miss Hibbs is said to be, and a great deal more attractive?”
Bram felt as he said this that he had lapsed into the copybook style of conversation which Chris had pointed out as one of his besetting sins. But he could not help it. He felt the need of some dignity in speaking words which he felt to be momentous.
Mr. Cornthwaite looked deeply annoyed.
“I have not,” said he shortly. And again he asked—“Whom do you mean?”