Mr Blake, senior, said nothing about it for a day or two, then testily, one morning, he remarked, while both he and Robb were riding home after a pleasurable survey of the beautiful estate:
'By the way, nephew, as we have no secrets, I may as well tell you that I feel sorry I haven't another son, and one who would meet my views more in accordance with the true spirit of a county man and a Blake.'
'You must take a more rosy view of things, uncle,' said Robb. 'I have noticed of late that you have not been your old hearty self. I really think, sir, a change for a month or two, say to Norway, with its bracing air, would do you good; and I'm quite certain that when you came back you would look upon Frank as a mere romantic boy who will grow up by-and-by into a sturdy, healthy, sober-minded man.'
'Sober-minded fiddlestick! I tell you this, Gustus, that the boy is father of the man. Now, listen. I have found out, quite by chance you know, that while travelling in his confounded caravan he has met some beautiful gipsy girl in Ireland, and is going to marry her. Loves her "distractedly," he says, whatever on earth that may mean.'
Augustus laughed. He had more reasons than one for laughing.
'She, the gipsy, it would seem, is only nineteen, so it will be, or would be, but a boy and girl match; but—well, I'm not going to stand it, Gustus. Just look around you as we pause on this knoll, Gustus. Did ever you see a more lovely landscape estate in your life? Gaze on those summer woods, the hills, the beeches and pine-trees, that charming lake asleep in the sunshine, and the noble old Manby Hall nestling down yonder among its waving foliage.'
'It is, indeed, very charming, uncle.'
'And to think that this will go to—to—an idiot who has so little reverence for his ancient lineage and the blood of the Blakes that he intends to marry a Romany rye.'
'Don't excite yourself, sir. It is too bad of Frank. Shall I write to him and put it strong?'
'No—perish the thought! Only, if he does make this mésalliance I shall disinherit him.'