The next day, after a sleepless night, Brace Norton rode over to the Castle, sent in his card, and asked to see Sir Murray Gernon.
In five minutes the answer came back that Sir Murray Gernon was engaged.
Feeling the slight deeply, but all the same nothing daunted, Brace called again and again, nerved by his strong, honest love, and determined to avow boldly that love, so as not to be accused of clandestine acts. Had he gained an interview, he would have earnestly pleaded his cause with the father, and have asked his sanction; but it was evident to Brace from the very first that Sir Murray would not see him, so he wrote a long appealing letter, the blood burning in his cheeks as he indited each line, asking favour towards his suit, but not with shame—his love was too honest for that.
Restless and impatient, Brace Norton awaited the reply, till he seemed almost in a state of fever. Both Captain and Mrs Norton knew the cause, but they were silent from the impression that it would be better for their son to find out for himself the hopelessness of his suit. Now Brace thought that the letter had miscarried, and wrote another, but paused before sending it, as he recalled the short space of time that had elapsed since the first was written.
But at last came Sir Murray’s answer, written in a cool, formal, gentlemanly spirit, exceedingly courteous, but with every sentence bearing a cold, despairing feeling to Brace Norton’s heart as it requested that he, as an officer and a gentleman, would refrain from seeking further intimacy with Sir Murray Gernon’s family. Intercourse even of the most formal nature was quite out of the question. In conclusion, Sir Murray thanked Mr Norton for the services he had rendered to his family, and left it to Mr Brace Norton’s good sense to see that no further advances could be countenanced. Did Mr Brace Norton wish to know more—always supposing him ignorant, as his behaviour led Sir Murray Gernon to imagine—Mrs Norton would doubtless supply certain links, such as would show to her son the truth of Sir Murray’s assertion—that intercourse between the families was out of the question.
Every word of that letter was so much molten misery, so much bitterness, that Brace Norton felt himself forced to drain to the dregs. He had no occasion to refer to his mother for confirmation of Sir Murray’s words; and yet why could not reconciliation come? Despair was his answer, and he hurried out to walk for hours, seeking the spots where he had encountered her, when at last he saw her riding slowly along a lane, followed at some little distance by Lord Maudlaine.
For a few moments Brace stood irresolute. What should he do? Resign himself to his fate, and, waiting what time would bring forth, be patient? Had Isa been alone, perhaps he might have so acted; but there was the suitor favoured by the father dodging her like a shadow, and he smiled as he thought of the madness of waiting, when, as to what time would bring forth, there was the answer in the shape of the Viscount. It was of no avail: the heart, he told himself, was ungovernable; and, forgetting Sir Murray’s letter and all else in his love, he strode forward, and the next minute was at Isa’s side.
“One-Two!”
It is said that money has little to do with love. Be that as it may, the more often Lord Maudlaine’s thoughts reverted to his friend Mr Braham, the more he increased his attentions to Isa Gernon. At first he attributed her indifference and coolness to the innate shyness of a young girl who had passed the greater part of her life in absolute retirement; thinking, too, that as Sir Murray had all along shown himself in favour of the connection, all he had to do was to go on quietly for a few months, when the day would be fixed, the wedding take place, and he, possessed of the handsome dowry brought by his wife in exchange for an empty title, would be free from the unpleasant visits and reminders of his money-lending acquaintances.