On the afternoon of the last day of Everell’s week, something occurred to bring Foxwell to a decision without recourse to the toss of a coin. Georgiana having mentioned to Everell a miniature portrait of herself, he had eagerly expressed a desire to see it. He had thought she would send Prudence for it, but Georgiana, saying that she alone could find it, and that she would return in a minute, left Everell in the garden. As she entered the hall, on the way to her apartments, she saw her uncle there in the act of greeting Squire Thornby, who had evidently just dismounted from his horse. She curtsied, and essayed to pass swiftly to the stairs, but Thornby intervened.
“Nay, one moment, Miss Foxwell,” said he, with precipitation, and looking very red in the face. “I’m going to say something to your uncle that concerns you.” As he stood directly in her way, she had no choice but to stop. She did not conceal her impatience. “It needn’t keep you long,” Thornby went on, “for I won’t beat about the bush. Mr. Foxwell, I may say without vanity I’m a man of some substance as fortunes go in this here part of the world. And, in course, you know I’m a bachelor. Not because I’m a woman-hater, but because, to be all open and aboveboard, I never yet saw the woman in these parts that I thought fit to be mistress of Thornby Hall—damn me if I ever did!”
“I can understand your feeling, Mr. Thornby,” said Foxwell, while the Squire paused and glared at both uncle and niece.
“That is to say,” resumed Thornby, “never till a few days ago. Ecod, it seems more than a few days, one way I look at it! I mean, I saw your niece—yes, you, Miss Foxwell, I say it to your face. Now the secret’s out. I hadn’t thought to come to the point so soon—I thought to go softly, and court the young lady awhile, and so forth—but hang me if I desire to wait and give somebody else a chance to carry off such a prize.—Well, what d’ye say, Miss Foxwell?”
Georgiana was quite too confounded to say anything.
“She says you do us a great honour, Mr. Thornby,” put in Foxwell, discreetly; “a very great honour. My niece, I am sure, is fully sensible of the honour. But are you aware how small her fortune is?”
“Hang fortunes! I’ve enough for two!” cried Thornby.
“And then, sir,” went on Foxwell, with quiet frankness, “upon her marriage, you must know, the division of our estate will leave me rather ill provided for. That would not influence me, were she not so young; but, as it is, she can very well afford to wait two or three years, during which I may improve my affairs.”
“You sha’n’t suffer, Foxwell,” said the Squire, bluntly: “you shall come out of the affair as well provided for as both of you now are together. But what does the lady say?”
“The lady says, no!” And emphatically she said it, too, now that she had found her voice. “I thank you very much, Mr. Thornby; but ’tis not to be heard of!”