"To Sir Edward Stanley."
Manners staggered back against the wall as though he had been smitten by some invisible hand. His face blanched, his lips quivered, and he gasped for very breath. This was news indeed, far beyond his worst anticipations, and he was almost crushed by the blow.
The baron watched him with a feeling akin to dismay. He hated his unpleasant task, and half regretted the promise he had made Sir Thomas Stanley. He pitied the unfortunate esquire who stood before him, and sincerely blamed himself for accepting the business, and the dame for thrusting it upon him.
Manners soon rallied, much to Sir George's relief; and the two sat down together at the little table. The baron, tried to express his sympathy with him in his great disappointment which had just come upon him, but his words were clumsy, and afforded no relief.
"It is not yet quite decided upon, is it?" asked the young man.
"We expect Sir Edward now at any time," the knight replied.
"But, Sir George, Dorothy has plighted her troth to me."
"Ah, we know it; Margaret has told us of it. 'Twas a foolish thing to do."
"And Father Philip blessed the match," pursued Manners.
"But she has been promised to Edward Stanley," was the quiet reply, "and a Vernon's promise is never broken, never."