The Viscount still stood staring at him as the Count finished his cup and set it upon the table. "Yes," said he finally, with a frown, "may the bravest man win her." And following the example of DeNortier, he resumed his reclining position upon the couch.
"And now, my Lord," the adventurer continued, "how long since is it that thy noble uncle died, and thou didst come into the possession of the title and estate?"
"Only a bare two months ago," answered Hampden, with a growl. "I thought the old fool would never die. He hung on to the estates and title as though he thought that he could carry them in his doublet with him, when he passed out of this world. I had thought that I would finally have to end his sufferings with my dagger, but he at last saved me that trouble. The Saints be praised!"
With a devout sigh at the thought of such sin and wickedness, he put to his lips the goblet that the Count had refilled, and drank off half of its contents with a gulp. Then putting it down once more on the table, he continued:
"I had been here long since had it not been for that; but from day to day I kept waiting for the old Lord to die. Each day we thought would be his last, but he held on for months," and looking up at the golden candelabra, he sighed again.
"And what effect had the titles and estates upon thy lady love?" asked DeNortier, with a slight smile. "Surely, Lord Dunraven, the possessor of an ancient title and lordly estates, would be a fit mate for any lady, barring none. Even the Queen would not stoop did she unite her fate with so noble a line."
Lord Dunraven frowned blackly. "It is true many a titled lady would be proud to be Lady Dunraven, wife of one of the greatest noblemen of England, but the foolish girl is as obstinate as a donkey. She would have none of it; told me she would be my friend ever, but I could never hope for more. The foul fiend fly away with such a friend!" he cried, his anger, stimulated by the rich wine, arising at the thought.
"I believe that she loves this Sir Thomas Winchester, so I had thee to bring him here."
My heart gave a great bound of joy as I heard this. Was it possible that Lady Margaret Carroll, courted and admired, with the choice of England's nobility before her, herself the bearer of a proud name, and with great estates, did she—could she—love and remember a gentleman spurned by his own family, penniless, an outcast from his home? Was she true to me, or was it only maidenly coyness, but used to heat my lord's passion, that she repulsed him thus?
"If I cannot win, he shall not!" and rising to his feet, Dunraven began to pace the floor.