“No matter,” added Lord Mackworth. “I will not ask thee who told thee such a thing. As for thy question—well, sin thou ask it frankly, I will be frank with thee. Yea, I have certain ends to gain in having the Earl of Alban overthrown.”
Myles bowed. “Sir,” said he, “haply thine ends are as much beyond aught that I can comprehend as though I were a little child; only this I know, that they must be very great. Thou knowest well that in any case I would fight me this battle for my father's sake and for the honor of my house; nevertheless, in return for all that it will so greatly advantage thee, wilt thou not grant me a boon in return should I overcome mine enemy?”
“What is thy boon, Sir Myles?”
“That thou wilt grant me thy favor to seek the Lady Alice de Mowbray for my wife.”
The Earl of Mackworth started up from his seat. “Sir Myles Falworth”—he began, violently, and then stopped short, drawing his bushy eyebrows together into a frown stern, if not sinister.
Myles withstood his look calmly and impassively, and presently the Earl turned on his heel, and strode to the open window. A long time passed in silence while he stood there, gazing out of the window into the garden beyond with his back to the young man.
Suddenly he swung around again. “Sir Myles,” said he, “the family of Falworth is as good as any in Derbyshire. Just now it is poor and fallen in estate, but if it is again placed in credit and honor, thou, who art the son of the house, shalt have thy suit weighed with as much respect and consideration as though thou wert my peer in all things, Such is my answer. Art thou satisfied?”
“I could ask no more,” answered Myles.