“Which I do not want.”
A silence followed.
“May I ask if your lordship is prepared to make me an offer?—or will you call on my father when you have made up your mind?”
“I will give two hundred pounds for the lot.”
“Two hundred pounds!” repeated Cosmo, who had not expected a large offer, but was unprepared for one so small; “why, my lord, the bare building material would be worth more than that!”
“Not to take it down. I might as well blast it fresh from the quarry. I know the sort of thing those walls of yours are! Vitrified with age, by George! But I don’t want to build, and standing, the place is of no use to me. I should but let it crumble away at its leisure!”
Cosmo’s dream rose again before his mind’s eye; but it was no more with pain; for if the dear old place was to pass from their hands, what other end could be desired for it!
“But the sum you mention, my lord, would not, after paying the little we owe, leave us enough to take us from the place!”
“That I should be sorry for; but as to paying, many a better man has never done that. You have my offer: take it or leave it. You’ll not get half as much if it come to the hammer. To whom else would it be worth anything, bedded in my property? If I say I don’t want it, see if anybody will!”
Cosmo’s heart sank afresh. He dared not part with the place off hand on such terms, but must consult his father: his power of action was for the time exhausted; he could do no more alone—not even to spare his father.