"What you please, papa. Tell him, if you like, that I would rather marry a chimney-sweep. I would, if it came to a choice between the two. How very senseless of Cyril to think of such a thing!"
"How very shrewd, I think, Mary—if he could only have got you," was the reply of Mr. Ashley.
"If!" saucily put in Mary.
Henry bent over the table to his sister. "I tell you what, Mary. You go this morning and offer yourself to our gouty friend, the general. He will jump at it, and we'll have the banns put up. We cannot, you know, be subjected to such shocks as these, on your account; it is unreasonable to expect it. I assure you it will be the most effectual plan to set Cyril Dare, and those of his tribe, at rest. No, thank you, ma'am," turning to Mrs. Ashley—"no more coffee. This has been enough breakfast for me."
"Who is this?" asked Mr. Ashley, as footsteps were heard on the gravel-walk.
Mrs. Ashley lifted her eyes. "It is William Halliburton."
"William Halliburton!" echoed Henry. "Ah! if you could have put his heart and intellect into Cyril's form, now, it might have done."
He spoke with that freedom of speech which characterized him, and in which, from his infirmity, he had not been checked. No one made any remark in answer, and William entered. He had come to ask some business question of Mr. Ashley.
"I will walk down with you," said Mr. Ashley, "and see to it. Take a seat, William."
"It is getting late, sir."