[These words gave me great comfort in my sorrow, so I have copied them here.]
[CHAPTER XXXVII.]
Aug. 20.
THIS morning my father and mother called me to a conference. I knew my Lord had been with them, and went thinking of nothing more important then perhaps that my Lady desired me to stay with her; but saw at once by their faces that there was more in the matter than that. My mother bade me to a seat beside her, and then my father said:
"Rosamond, here has been my Lord proposing—asking—" then turning to my mother: "Madam, do you be spokesman—I am a fool, and that is the whole on't!"
"My Lord has been proposing a match for you, daughter, and your father wishes to know your mind before giving him an answer. Richard Stanton wishes to make you his wife, and my Lord also desires the match."
"You see, Dick is the next in succession, and my Lady is very frail," added my father, "so 'tis proper and right that Dick should marry. It seems, however, that Master Dick will have nobody but his country cousin, after all the fair ladies he has seen at court and abroad, and my Lord thinks he could not do better."
I was covered with confusion, and could hardly look up.
"Well, what say you, chick?" asked my father. "Wilt wed Dick Stanton, and live here at home? You might doubtless make a richer and greater match, for even if my Lady should not recover, my Lord is of an age to marry again, and with my aunt's estate for a portion, you will not go begging. But we all know and like Dick, who is good and true as the day, and not so badly portioned either for a younger son; besides that, my Lord will give him the estate of Coombe Ashton, if he weds to his liking. So what say you, daughter, for all rests with you? I will wed no child of mine against her will."