“What for, my lad? Defending your mother? It was quite right. Shake hands.”
Denis caught the Doctor’s hand, and Veronica uttered a sigh of relief.
“There now, sit down, and let’s talk sensibly; and next time a man insults Lady Pinemount like that, knock him down. So you have come to apologise, eh?”
“Yes, sir. It is most painful to me. I have no authority, but I know you to be a straightforward English gentleman who sees my position, and I ask you to be lenient with my father and forbearing towards him.”
“But you see this is all selfishness, Denis Rolleston.”
“Yes, sir; but you don’t know all.”
“All what? That you have a silly, boyish liking for my child.”
“Silly! boyish!” cried the young man, flushing. “Don’t you be hard upon me too.”
“It’s the simple truth,” said the Doctor drily; “and very simple too. Here are you, son of the nobleman who holds this handsome estate, with a right to look very high in a matrimonial alliance, and yet you come hanging about here after a young lady, daughter of such a nobody as an eccentric old naturalist who has spent the past thirty years abroad. You must be very weak-minded, young man.”
“Words, sir,” cried Denis eagerly. “You know in your heart you think I am as wise as I know I am.”