“My express object in now speaking to you is to obtain that sanction,” answered Headland, with all the calmness he could command.
“I am not at all disposed to give it unless to a man her equal in birth and family, and before I can reply, I must beg that you will inform me to what family you belong, and what means you possess.”
Headland briefly described his position.
“I have, however, every prospect of rising in the service, and of adding to the credit which, with honest pride, I may venture to say, I have already gained. I have your daughter’s authority for telling you that she will marry no one else till I return to ask her hand.”
The baronet listened to him calmly without speaking till he had finished.
“I will make no remark on your conduct, Captain Headland, whatever I may think of it,” he said, at length, after nearly a minute’s silence. “But you will understand that I do not allow my daughter to pledge herself as you tell me she has done. You will understand that though I do not wish to treat you with discourtesy, I do not expect that you will honour me with another visit when you return on shore. I regret having to say this while you are still my guest, but you have forced me to express myself clearly on the subject. And now I think you will agree with me that to prolong this interview will not lead to any satisfactory result. You have clearly explained your position, and I have as clearly expressed my opinion. I will speak to Miss Castleton, and it may be a satisfaction to you if, as I expect she will, she states her readiness at my desire to set you free. I must beg, however, that what I have said may not induce you to leave Texford sooner than you had intended. I may say that I have that confidence in you that you will not in the meantime try to induce my daughter to take any step of which I should disapprove.”
The baronet rose as he spoke, and Headland, not considering an answer to the last remark necessary, did so likewise, and with a formal bow, which Sir Ralph returned, left the room.
His heart swelling with indignation and sorrow, he repaired to his own chamber. He felt indignant at the way Sir Ralph had treated him: his sorrow was for Julia, for he knew too well the sufferings she would be called on to endure on his account. He threw himself into a chair to consider what steps he should take; could he remain longer as the guest of Sir Ralph? and then he thought, “he is Julia’s father, and for her sake I must bear what I would not from any other man.”
Harry, suspecting what had taken place, soon followed Headland to his room.
“My dear fellow,” he exclaimed, “I am sure my father has spoken in a way you feel hard to bear; let me entreat you not to take notice of it. I do not ask you what he said, but I am right, am I not?”