“Mr. Alexander Dudley wishes to speak to your lordship,” said a servant, entering the room at this juncture.
“Wishes to speak to me?” repeated Lord Kemms; “where is he?”
“In the library, my lord;” and forthwith “my lord” walked across the hall into the room where Alick stood waiting for him.
The lad had not sat down. He stood beside the library table with his hat in his hand; and even when Lord Kemms motioned him to a chair, he declined the proffered courtesy.
“My brother was to have sent you Nellie this evening, my lord,” he began. “I have been to the Park, but finding you were here, came on. I hope you will excuse my doing so. I thought it was better for me to see you.”
“Does your brother want to be off his bargain?” asked his lordship, sharply. “If that be what you have to say, of course I shall not hold him to it.”
“That is not what I have to say,” answered Alick, boldly. He had felt nervous and fluttered at first, but Lord Kemms’ manner braced up his courage in an instant. He had felt a discrepancy between himself, his prospects, his dress, his position, and the grand house into which he had been permitted to enter, almost under protest (so it seemed to him), of a servant who evidently thought he had no business at Moorlands; but that was all now forgotten.
Lord Kemms had made a great mistake, and having made it, Alick could strike him under the fifth rib. His irritation had thrown him off his guard, and now Alick could deliver his message with effect.
“My brother sold Nellie to you, believing her to be sound. We are not quite certain that she is sound; and, not being certain, my lord, we would not send her to you.”
For a moment Lord Kemms’ face flushed scarlet; then he said,—