“My lord, you have spoken of directions from me. I have one or two to give you, and that is all. And here let us speak frankly. The time was when, I know, your son had a wish that his boy and my little girl should grow up to become husband and wife. Perhaps, at one time, I may have had some such thought; but, with my present light, I certainly cannot wish it. Matthew must grow up to be a different man from what he now gives promise of being if he would look upon my daughter with the thought of making her his wife. Surely, my lord, you will agree with me, in this?”
“Yes, yes, Sir William, I do, certainly,” the earl answered sadly. “I have often wished that Matthew was different; and I have never held the wish so deeply as I have done since I have known your darling. Oh! if the boy were worthy of her how happy we all might be! But, who shall say what may happen? He is young yet. What he may be when he shall have grown to manhood we can not tell.”
“That is so,” nodded the baronet thoughtfully. After a little pause he added: “But, my lord, you will promise me, unless Matthew shall be truly worthy—in every way a good and reliable man—you will not allow him to offer love to Cordelia?”
“Yes, William, I promise that. But the promise was not needed. The good of your child will be to me as precious and as eagerly cared for as my own life could be.”
“Another promise I would have, my lord; Cordelia shall never be urged to marry against her will. Oh! what misery have I seen from that cause! A marriage without love! It is a sin—a crime against common humanity, if not against heaven! Let my child be reared as I know you will rear her, and her own heart will be the safest, surest guide to happiness and peace in the future.”
“Sir William,” the old man replied, with deep feeling, “I give you that promise from my heart. Your sweet child shall never, with my consent be asked to wed without love. If I had a daughter of my own, it should be my chief desire—I may say, the end and aim of my life, to make her happy. I would keep her pure, and good and true; being well assured that in her blessedness my own greatest blessing of life would be found. And, my dear son—for you are as a son to me—I will do by your daughter as I would by a daughter of my own.”
Sir William murmured a few words in grateful response; but they were not needed. His tears, and the impulsive grasp of his feeble hand, spoke louder than any words could have done.
“Dear father,” the sick man said, breaking in upon a silence that lasted a full minute, he still held the earl’s hand, not having relinquished it since he had caught it in his impulse of gratitude. “My dear father, if I may call you so—”
“Never call me by any other name,” the aged nobleman interposed. He gazed for a few seconds into the pale, wan face upon the pillow, tears starting from his eyes while he did so; and then resumed: “William, my son, I know not why it is, but it is a fact nevertheless, a fact that you have won a place in my heart close by the side of my own noble boy. Ah! you know I may call him noble.”
“I never knew a nobler man,” the baronet responded quickly.