Osborn shrugged with scornful impatience. "Pshaw! We'll let that go. You said you hoped things might change. Do you think any change of fortune could give you the tastes and feelings of a gentleman? Make you a proper husband for my daughter? You know the thing's impossible."
Kit colored and hesitated, and Peter signed him to be quiet.
"These meetings must be stopped. I'm as much against such a match as I think you are."
"Ah," said Osborn, who looked puzzled, "you hinted something of the kind! I don't know that your point of view's important, but I can't understand."
"My meaning's no varra hard to see," Peter answered. "The lass is bonny and, so far as I ken, weel-meaning and kind; but she has been badly browt up at an extravagant hoose. She'll not can help her husband, except mayhappen to waste, and she has niver learned to work and gan withoot. Weel, it seems we are agreed. Miss Osborn is no the lass I would welcome for my son's wife."
Osborn looked at him with frank surprise. Then he said, "We'll make an end," and turned to Kit. "If you speak to my daughter again, she will be forbidden to leave the Tarnside grounds; if you write to her, your letter will be burned. She cannot resist my control for the next three or four years. There's nothing more to be said."
He went out and Peter, who walked to the porch with him, came back and looked quietly at Kit.
"A proud and foolish man, but he's hit hard!" he said. "Mayhappen it will hurt, my lad, but you must be done wi' this. Osborn's daughter is none for you."
Kit looked straight in front, with his hands clenched. "So it seems, for some years. It does hurt. I cannot give her up."
Peter lighted his pipe and there was silence for a few minutes. Then as Kit did not move he remarked: "I ken something o' what you're feeling; aw t' same you've got to fratch. There's nowt against the lass except that she's Osborn's child, but she's none o' our kind and it's sense and custom that like gans to like."