So, towards the close of the year, he had made his arrangements for returning home. Said Lord Oakleigh, after the thing had been settled, and the baronet had packed up:
“You say you have no settled home in England. Your family estate—the home of your ancestors—Leyburn Abbey, with its park and forest, you have leased for a term of years; and, of course, you can not push your tenant out, if he wishes to remain, which we know he does. So, my dear Willie, do you make your way to Allerdale, and there cast anchor. My father will be delighted to see you—delighted to hear from me—and a thousand times delighted when you tell him you have come to make a good long stop with him. There your little Cordelia will have my boy Matt to play with; and, further, the young hero will be old enough and strong enough to have a care for her. Tell me—promise me—it shall be so.”
When Sir William had finally given the required promise he had a request to make on his own account. He made it thus:
“George, I am a sicker man than you think. Should it prove in the end that I am going to England only to die, I wish to leave my child in your charge. You will be her guardian. Promise me that.”
At first George Brandon had been unwilling to listen to any such thing as his friend’s dying; but, at length, when the baronet had pushed him into a corner, he had replied:
“Look ye, William, you are going to Allerdale. That is settled. If you are to die, as you seem to think may be possible, you will die there. If that is to be, let my father be your daughter’s guardian. She could not have a better. You can arrange with him, if you please, that should he die while Cordelia is under age and I should survive him, he may transfer the authority to me. Under such circumstances I should assume the duties most cheerfully, though with sad remembrance. However, my father is a hale and hearty man, and comes of a long-lived stock. I am very sure, barring accidents, that he will live to see your daughter married.”
So Sir William had left India with the understanding that if a guardian should be required for his child the old earl should be the man.
Once Lord Oakleigh had let fall the remark that it might be a pleasant thing in the future that their children should become united in marriage; but Sir William had made no response.
Perhaps he felt that it was too early to be thinking of marriage for his little pet, and it is not impossible that he preferred to wait a few years and see what sort of a husband his friend’s son gave promise of making.
That was the first and the last word ever spoken between Lord Oakleigh and Sir William Chester regarding the marriage of their children; but it was not the last of the subject, as we shall see anon.