“I don’t think I have ever had occasion to use any name but my own until yesterday. The point is, that as Miss Cranstoun expressed an indifference to titles which almost amounted to hostility, I took advantage of the fact to continue the jest, and to do my wooing in the name of my old college friend, whose people are gentlemen farmers in Yorkshire.”
“Very romantic,” sneered Sir Philip. “May I ask whether this ‘Lord of Burleigh’ style of courtship won my daughter’s heart?”
“I could not say that. Miss Cranstoun has known me a few hours only, and I am not possessed of those graces and attractions which charm at first sight. But at least she did not repel me, and even promised to think about the matter, subject, of course, to your approval.”
It was difficult for Sir Philip to keep all signs of his satisfaction from his hard and impassive face.
“I will tell you plainly, Lord Carthew,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “that after what you have told me, I shall require better proofs of your identity than your bare word if you wish me to consider you in the light of a suitor to my daughter’s hand. We Cranstouns are, as you may know, among the oldest, absolutely the oldest families in England, and on her mother’s side my daughter is granddaughter to the Duke of Lanark. I do not think my daughter is especially attached to me, although she is most devoted to my wife. But she has been brought up in habits of the strictest obedience, and would not think of encouraging any admirer without my full sanction. Had you been this Mr. Pritchard you were pleased to personate, I should most certainly have never given it.”
“My friend is a gentleman, sir,” returned Lord Carthew, coldly; “and a man of such high character and superb appearance that any girl might well fall in love with him, and any father be proud to be connected with him.”
“In that case, you must pardon me for saying so, but are you not committing an error of judgment in taking him with you when you go wife-hunting?”
The bitterness of the sarcasm, reflecting as it did upon his undistinguished appearance, stung Lord Carthew for one moment only, and he winced. Then, recovering himself, with an easy smile, he answered that fortunately for him Mr. Pritchard was not a marrying man, and proposed, indeed, shortly to leave England and seek his fortune out West. In the mean time he should be glad to know whether Sir Philip had any objection to offer against him, Lord Carthew, in the character of candidate for his daughter’s hand.
“My parents are extremely desirous that I should at once marry some lady of birth and beauty,” he continued. “My father intends settling fifteen thousand a year and a house in town upon me as soon as my choice is made. But I have hardly ever hoped to see my ideals all realized so perfectly as they are in your lovely and charming daughter.”
The two men having come to a thorough understanding, it was hard to say which was the more eager to hurry on the marriage. Even the strongest and hardest of men, to all appearance, usually have one weak spot, one touch of human foolishness about them, and in Sir Philip Cranstoun’s mind there lingered always a haunting fear lest the old gypsy woman’s prophecy of disgrace and shame to be brought upon him by his descendants might some day be verified. Over his wife he exercised the same unquestioned, domineering authority as over the servants of his household; but he had long ago recognized the proud, dumb protest in his daughter’s obedience, and had realized that she inherited something of his own will-power, together with a capability for passionate resentment and other qualities at the existence of which he could but guess.