“Impossible I know it is to change your opinion, general, of any one,” said Beauclerc.
“For my own part, I am glad of that,” said Lady Cecilia, rising; “and I advise you, Granville, to rest content with the general’s opinion of yourself, and say no more.”
“But,” said Beauclerc; “one cannot be content to think only of one’s-self always.”
“Say no more, say no more,” repeated Lady Cecilia, smiling as she looked back from the door, where she had stopped the general. “For my sake say no more, I entreat, I do dislike to hear so much said about anything or anybody. What sort of a road is it to Old Forest?” continued she; “why should not we ladies go with you, my dear Clarendon, to enliven the way.”
Clarendon’s countenance brightened at this proposal. The road was certainly beautiful, he said, by the banks of the Thames. Lady Cecilia and the general left the room, but Beauclerc remained sitting at the breakfast-table, apparently intently occupied in forming a tripod of three tea-spoons; Lady Davenant opposite to him, looking at him earnestly, “Granville!” said she. He started, “Granville! set my mind at ease by one word, tell me the mot d’énigme of this sudden friendship.”
“Not what you suppose,” said he steadily, yet colouring deeply. “The fact is, that Beltravers and I were school-fellows; a generous little fellow he was as ever was born; he got me out of a sad scrape once at his own expense, and I can never forget it. We had never met since we left Eton, till about three weeks ago in town, when I found him in great difficulties, persecuted too, by a party—I could not turn my back on him—I would rather be shot!”
“No immediate necessity for being shot, my dear Granville, I hope,” said Lady Davenant. “But if this be indeed all, I will never say another word against your Lord Beltravers; I will leave it to you to find out his character, or to time to show it. I shall be quite satisfied that you throw away your money, if it be only money that is in the question; be this Lord Beltravers what he may. Let him say, ‘or let them do, it is all one to me,’ provided that he does not marry you to his sister.”
“He has not a thought of it,” cried Beauclerc; “and if he had, do you conceive, Lady Davenant, that any man on earth could dispose of me in marriage, at his pleasure?”
“I hope not,” said Lady Davenant.
“Be assured not; my own will, my own heart alone, must decide that matter.”