“If your lordship thinks so,” said Mowbray,—and then passing rapidly to what he felt he could say with more confidence,—“Indeed, at any rate, no personal obligation to myself could prevent my doing my full duty as guardian to my sister.”
“Unquestionably, I desire nothing else,” replied the Earl of Etherington.
“I must therefore understand that your lordship is quite serious in your proposal; and that it is not to be withdrawn, even if upon acquaintance with Miss Mowbray, you should not perhaps think her so deserving of your lordship's attentions, as report may have spoken her.”
“Mr. Mowbray,” replied the Earl, “the treaty between you and me shall be as definite as if I were a sovereign prince, demanding in marriage the sister of a neighbouring monarch, whom, according to royal etiquette, he neither has seen nor could see. I have been quite frank with you, and I have stated to you that my present motives for entering upon negotiation are not personal, but territorial; when I know Miss Mowbray, I have no doubt they will be otherwise. I have heard she is beautiful.”
“Something of the palest, my lord,” answered Mowbray.
“A fine complexion is the first attraction which is lost in the world of fashion, and that which it is easiest to replace.”
“Dispositions, my lord, may differ,” said Mowbray, “without faults on either side. I presume your lordship has enquired into my sister's. She is amiable, accomplished, sensible, and high-spirited; but yet”——
“I understand you, Mr. Mowbray, and will spare you the pain of speaking out. I have heard Miss Mowbray is in some respects—particular; to use a broader word—a little whimsical.—No matter. She will have the less to learn when she becomes a countess, and a woman of fashion.”
“Are you serious, my lord?” said Mowbray.