"I know that you have. How can you help it? And yet for some trumpery bits of ground, or some dirty seat in Parliament, you have been eager to sacrifice the purest, and warmest, and sweetest heart in all the world, to such a wretch!"
"Tommy, you speak hotly, and a little beyond your business. What makes you take up this question so intensely?"
Sir Roland looked at me, in such a way, that I resolved to have it out with him, and sail, or sink, at least under true colours.
"The simple fact," I said, looking full into his eyes, for no man should frighten me, in a manly business, "that I love your sister, as purely, and entirely, as even she can deserve to be loved. There is not the least necessity, for you to tell me, that I am a presumptuous fool or ass, or anything else that you like to call me, for daring to do such a thing. But I have dared it; and shall dare it, all my life. And though I have very little hope of success; it has done me good, and has elevated me. Not in the social scale, I mean, or any of that stuff, but as a man—a man who has a right to give his heart, though he may get nothing but disdain, for it. I have wanted, for a long time, to tell you this; that we might understand each other. You have seen my reluctance to accept favours from you—to get put into the House, and so on. I could not do that, while I kept you in the dark, about a thing likely to change all your feelings. You cannot say now, that I have humbugged you."
Sir Roland, though generally so quick of reply, as almost to snap the words out of one's mouth, took so much time to think, that I felt my heart beat, like the wing of a bird that is rising.
"Well, Tommy," he said, looking more perplexed than angry, and taking me by the hand; "you have spoken as a man; and I thank you for it. And you deserve, that I should speak with equal candour. I will not say anything to hurt your feelings, more than may be avoided. As regards money, and character, and education, and kindliness of nature, and warmth of heart, you are all that a man need desire for his sister. But as regards birth—my dear fellow, excuse me, you know that I would not say anything to pain you, about such an accident, if I could help it—there comes the point, which is hard to get over. We Twentifolds do not pretend to be, of royal, or even of noble descent, in the direct line; though we have intermarried often enough with the best blood in England; but this we can say, that for five hundred years, we have always been of the foremost rank of commoners, and baronets, ever since such things were. In the last hundred years, there has only been one taint——"
"Oh, let me hear all about that," I exclaimed; "I am truly delighted, that there has been that. Was it in the tallow-line, my dear Roly?"
"No, sir, it was not. It was in oil and beeswax," he answered, with a frown which was very like a smile; "the subject is a sore one, and pursuit would make it sorer. You had better ask my mother, what the story is. She tells it, with simplicity and sympathy. But to come back to tallow—as you coarsely put it. Let everything between us be exactly as it was. After what you have done for Laura—who would not be alive, to marry any one, but for you—I shall not attempt to interfere between you. Like the present Government, I shall 'maintain an attitude of masterly inactivity;' which may, or may not, have the usual result—to wit, servile passivity. Not a word about this subject again between us; until I renew it. Also bear in mind one thing,—even if you succeed with my mother, and with Laura, you will not have my consent (without which nothing whatever can come of it) until you have done something great, and glorious, to win the fame, which leaps over all distinctions."