My father looked confused enough for a moment.
"May I ask who is the happy man?" asked my lord.
"Our daughter refers to a childish entanglement with a person in Newcastle," said my lady—"that Mr. Cheriton who has so strangely disgraced himself of late."
"Oh! The Methodist parson who had the adventure with the pretty milliner!" said my lord, sneeringly. "I should like to meet this irresistible apostle."
"You have already met him, my lord," I could not help saying. "I had myself the pleasure of witnessing your encounter in front of Mrs. Thorpe's shop."
My lord had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself.
"This is all folly, Amabel," said my father, shortly. "I will hear no more of it. You must make up your mind to accept Lord Bulmer, and that speedily."
And then, he condescended to argue with me, and tell me of my lord's wealth, and the settlements he was prepared to make, and wondered I could hesitate between two such men.
"I do not hesitate, sir," I answered. "My choice is made long since."
"And you will be so mean spirited as to cling to this parson of yours, even while he is intriguing with all sorts of people," said my lady.