On his way he met Mr. Elliston, the owner of that large house and estate. Mr. Elliston was also on horseback, and he saluted the young gentleman thus:
"Well met, Grigson. I was going over to your brother's place expressly to have some talk with you; but as you are come so far, I'll turn back, and say my say at the Mumbles. I suppose you will like that as well, on the whole?"
"A good deal better," said Tom, lightly; and then his heart began to beat a little faster than usual, for he was not quite sure as to what Kate's father might have to say to him, looking so serious too.
Mr. Elliston was the father of the gentleman of whom mention has already been made in these memoirs, as having, according to Miss Elizabeth Wilson's version, discarded a certain Miss Summerfield for a richer prize; and it was further reported that he had been advised, if not compelled, to this course by the old gentleman, who knew as well as any one—so the gossip-mongers said—how many shillings should go to make a guinea.
Now, the condition on which Tom had been blushingly accepted as a lover by the fair Kate, was that her father's consent to the arrangement should be obtained. And though the young gentleman had reason to believe that he was a special favourite with the old one, he was not quite sure whether that favour would safely carry him over the bridge which still lay between him and the fulfilment of his hopes. So, between hoping and fearing, Tom rode silently alongside Mr. Elliston till they reached the stable-yard of the Mumbles, where he gave up his horse to the groom, and, on further invitation, followed the master of the great house into his study.
"So," said the old gentleman, when the door was closely shut, "I understand you have been talking to Kate."
"She has told you, then, what passed yesterday?" said Tom, eagerly.
"Of course she has. She is a good girl, and has made an open breast of it."
"And may I venture to hope, sir, that you will consent to my—to make me—to make Kate, I mean—happy?" blurted out Tom, stammering rather awkwardly. "She—that is, we—love one another very much, sir," said Tom, looking very red, I daresay.
"In other words," said the grey-headed senior, very gravely, "you propose to be my son-in-law—at some future time—and venture to hope that I see no objection to the arrangement. But suppose I do see a very serious and grave and almost insuperable objection to it, my dear Tom, what would you say then?"