'No. I thank you very much, and like you very much—there are both my hands on that; but marriage is impossible. Yet don't let us quarrel, for that would be absurd, but be the best of good friends as ever.'
'And this is my answer?' said he, with a very crushed air.
'Yes,' she replied, colouring deeply now; 'once and for all.'
'I won't take it,' said he, with mingled sorrow and anger. 'I will not, darling!—I shall come to it again, when, perhaps, you may think better of it and of me. Till then good-bye, and God bless you, dearest Finella!'
Kissing both her hands, he abruptly withdrew, and soon after leaving the house took his departure for Brighton; and now the luckless Finella had to explain the reason thereof, and to undergo the ever-recurring admonitions, reprehensions, parables, and absolute scoldings of 'grandmamma Drumshoddy,' who was neither quite so well bred nor so calm in spirit and outward bearing as Lady Fettercairn, then 'eating humble pie' at Craigengowan.
If Florian, the new heir, was indeed dying, as reported, when he was embarked with other sick and wounded officers and men at Durban, a prospective peerage, with all the estates, enhanced the value and position of Finella in the eyes of Lady Drumshoddy, so far as a marriage with her nephew, the Major, was concerned, and most wrathful she was indeed to find that her schemes were going 'agee.'
Lord Fettercairn fully shared her ideas, and knew that whoever married the only daughter of the House of Melfort, though he might assume the old name, it and the title too went virtually out of the family.
Finella had remarked to herself that for some time past Lady Fettercairn in her letters never mentioned the name of Shafto, or hinted of the old wish about marrying him.
Why was this?
She knew not the reason that his existence was ignored, till Lady Drumshoddy bluntly referred to 'the pretty kettle of fish' made lately by the folks at Craigengowan, and then, in the gentleness of her heart, Finella almost felt pitiful for the now homeless and worthless one.