“Sir Peter Hardacre,” he said, with bashful dignity, “I have come to apologize to your daughter, sir, for the distress I innocently brought upon her the other night. I offer you my apologies, sir, also; I have always honored you, and you have been very kind to me.”
The lad drew himself up creditably, squared his shoulders, and looked the baronet straight in the face.
“Egad, sir,” quoth Sir Peter, glaring at his daughter and preparing to seem parental, “you appear quick at consoling the ladies. The Hardacre honor, sir—”
Mr. Richard became aware suddenly of a warm hand stealing into his. Miss Jilian gave him a look out of her gray eyes and a whispered word that carried a command. She went down on her knees before her father.
“What! Bless my soul, what’s this, eh? Stars and garters, Jill, what am I to understand from this?”
“Cousin Richard has asked me to be his wife,” said Miss Hardacre, with a divine simper.
“With your consent, Sir Peter,” added Cousin Richard, half grimly.
And Sir Peter, noble and forgiving soul, put his pride in his pocket, beamed, and blessed them!
Jeffray left Hardacre House that afternoon with his betrothal an assured fact in the eyes of Christendom. The way the fog had melted before him of a sudden had surprised even the generous Squireling of Rodenham. He had expected an unnerving interview with Sir Peter, and possibly a very affecting one with Miss Jilian, and here—in a morning he found himself betrothed to the daughter and embraced and blessed by a future father. Jeffray could only admire in Sir Peter the workings of an admirable and manly spirit of forgiveness. As for Mr. Lot, Richard still felt the slap that worthy gentleman had given him upon the shoulder and the hearty way he had crunched his hand. Jilian had been wondrous sweet and coy with her betrothed, and Jeffray should have boasted himself happy in possessing the right to clasp such perfumed purity in his arms.
Was it the inevitable reaction after so much sweet ecstasy and such squanderings of sentiment that threw Richard into a decidedly melancholy mood after taking leave of his Jilian on the terrace? No doubt the parting from the lady should have accounted for the onset of such a humor, but Richard’s inclinations were contrary to custom, since he desired to think and to be alone. Whether contact had crumbled up the romance, or whether the seriousness of the step bulked for the first time in Jeffray’s mind, he found himself meditating on the affair with a chilly reasonableness that was not begotten in the rapturous school of Venus.