“Your lordship is right; but you must not misunderstand my dear child.”
“Pretty, sweet, young, and most impressionable, Denville. Constant dropping will wear a stone. Don’t let the water drop on it any more.”
“My lord, you may trust me.”
“Stop, Denville. Another thing in confidence. You must get it back, treating it all as an error.”
“My lord, you alarm me. Get it back?”
“I can’t help it, Denville. Do you know that sometimes dashing fellows, ruined by play, have gone on the road mounted and masked, and, pistol in hand, have robbed?”
“Yes, my lord. But we have no highwaymen here.”
“Don’t be too sure. Did you know that Barclay, at my wish, brought some jewellery?”
“Yes, but not at my wish, my lord! I felt aggrieved—insulted.”
“Forgive him and me. It was at my request. I wanted to make an offering—a string of pearls—to your daughter; and, like the sweet true lady she is, she has refused to accept them.”