“Everything,” he said. “Grace, once before you refused me, and I went to India; if you refuse me again, I cannot stay in Ireland. With you I could accomplish what I have said—without you success would be worthless. If you say stay, I stay. If you say go, I go; and when once my father dies there will never be a Riley at Woodbrook again.”
She hesitated and turned her head away, then with eyes still averted put out her hand timidly and shyly.
“Am I to stay?” he asked, taking it in both of his.
And she whispered “Yes.”
“I have heard such a wonderful piece of news” said Mrs. Hartley, as John Riley and Grace entered the house together.
“What is it?” asked the former, thinking it could not be one-half so wonderful as the piece of news he had to tell; but with which, to do the lady’s discrimination justice, Mrs. Hartley was already au fait.
“Cecil, Earl of Glendare is really married, and Mr. Robert Somerford’s chances of succeeding to the title are—nil. He is so disgusted at the turn affairs have taken that he has threatened to enlist if his mother and Mr. Dillwyn do not make some suitable provision for him.”
“He ought to have gone to work and made a suitable provision for himself years ago,” remarked Grace, running upstairs to take off her bonnet.
“She has promised to marry you?” said Mrs. Hartley.
“She has, indeed!”