“My cousin,” continued the candid young courtier, interrupting the silent reflections of his travelling companion, “is also a member of my father’s family. She has been staying at Bulstrode Park now for many years; and will remain, I suppose, until—”
The heir of Bulstrode hesitated—as if not very certain of the time at which the stay of his cousin was to terminate.
“Until,” interrogated the cavalier, with a significant smile, “until when?”
“Really, sir,” said Walter, speaking rather confusedly, “I can’t say how long our cousin may choose to remain with us. When she comes to be of age, I dare say, her guardian will claim her. Papa is not her guardian.”
“Ah! Master Walter Wade, I’d lay a wager, that before Mistress Lora Lovelace be of age, she’ll choose her own guardian—one who will not object to her staying at Bulstrode for the remainder of her life. Ha! ha! ha!”
Instead of feeling indignant, the cousin of Lora Lovelace joined in the laugh. There was something in the insinuation that soothed and gratified him.
Conversing in this jocular vein, the two travellers reached the summit of the sloping declivity; and, continuing onward, entered upon a wild tract of country known as Jarret’s Heath.