Before she could utter another protest, he had gone back into the house, leaving Deborah unhappy and self-reproachful. And yet those last words of his were true, as she knew. Lord St. Austell, who had been in town for the season, was expected to arrive at Llancader that day for a short stay, before joining his yacht for a long cruise. Rees had been so feverishly anxious to meet him that Deborah had become deeply interested as to the object of the interview. That Rees was not actuated merely by gratitude and affection she knew, as he had been lately in the habit of casting on the earl all the blame of his own idleness.
The fact was that Amos Goodhare, having devoted himself to the study of Rees Pennant’s character, and especially of its weaknesses, had managed by degrees to get such a hold upon him, and to use it in such a diabolical manner, that the lad’s good impulses were being gradually choked and the evil encouraged, while even the loving women of his own household were unable to trace the true source of the change, the effects of which were plain to one at least of them.
Swallowing the bait which the cunning Goodhare held out to his vanity, he persistently avoided Deborah, for whom he had a natural inclination, and hung about Marion, whose unabashed adoration at heart rather disgusted than attracted him. Why should he not become the earl’s son-in-law, as the librarian, by insinuation rather than by direct speech, so constantly suggested? Lord St. Austell had no sons, and had never shown for any man, young or old, so great a partiality as he constantly did for him. He was handsome, brilliant, and more like the ideal conception of what a nobleman’s son ought to be than any eldest son in the whole aristocracy. Rees knew this, and felt more than a modest confidence in the fact. He even began to think that in the earl’s constant indulgence, which had indeed greatly increased the lad’s aversion from the thought of serious work, he saw a long-fixed determination to provide for his future in some brilliant manner.
So that, by the time of the earl’s return to Llancader, Rees had quite prepared himself for an encouraging answer to his proposals. He went to meet him at the station, and everything seemed to favor his wishes. Lord St. Austell was more than kind, he was most affectionate in his greeting, in his inquiries after all the family, not forgetting Deborah. Then, saying that he would like a walk, he dismissed the dog-cart that had been sent to meet him, and, thrusting his arm through that of Rees, started with him towards Llancader.
Nothing could be more propitious, so thought Rees, who felt too hopeful to spoil his effect by rushing at the subject. It was not until they were in sight of the first lodge that Rees, emboldened to make a very spirited appeal, formally asked the earl’s consent to his marriage with Lady Marion.
Lord St. Austell listened in complete, attentive silence. Rees thought it was all right, when, at the end of his carefully prepared and beautifully delivered speech, the earl burst into a fit of laughter.
“Oh, you boys and girls!” he said, indulgently, but with great amusement, “when will you learn a little sense?”
And again he began to laugh.
When Rees had recovered from his first impulse of rage and mortification, he asked, in his haughtiest manner—
“Am I to understand from this strange reception that you refuse my proposals?”