“Lot,” he said, “I am not worthy to kiss your sister’s hand. Do you think that she will forgive me?”
Mr. Lancelot appeared profoundly serious, and glanced at his cousin under wrinkled brows.
“Jill has a deuced kind heart, Dick,” he said.
“The lass has been much shaken, cousin; she kept her bed this morning.”
Richard, looking a fine and honest fellow with his eyes bright in his flushed face, held out his hands to his cousin.
“Be my friend, Lot,” he said, “and persuade Jilian to let me see her. I am a man of honor, sir, and your sister is a saint. Say I will ride over to-morrow in the hope that she will see me.”
Mr. Lot studied his cousin keenly and smiled. The lad was honest and generous enough; there would be no need of bullying.
“Egad, Richard,” he exclaimed, “you are a fine fellow, sir, and Lot Hardacre is with you. Poor Jill has a tender heart, cousin. I’ll try to get her to see you; I will. Sir Peter, too, is in a swearing rage, Richard, but I’ll get old Stott over and have the governor bled.”
Richard, with tears in his eyes, gripped his cousin’s hand.
“Thank you, Lot,” he said—“thank you. You are a friend in need—by Heaven, you are! As for my aunt, she shall leave Rodenham at once.”
Mr. Hardacre clapped Jeffray on the shoulder.
“That’s the tune, my buck,” he said, heartily; “be the master in your own house, Richard, and don’t be grandmothered by any old woman. Why, she would quarrel with you if you were for marrying St. Agnes, by gad, she would. Have it out with her, cousin; she’s been treating you like a foot-boy. I wouldn’t stand it, sir; I wouldn’t.”
Richard smiled a little ruefully, pressed his cousin’s red hand again, and accompanied him to the porch. Mr. Lot mounted on the terrace, flashed a keen look at his cousin, and took leave of him with boisterous good-humor.
“Get to the windward of her, Richard,” he said, meaningly. “Give her a broadside or two and she’ll strike. Damn it, cousin, don’t be a charity boy in your own house.”
“I’ll do my best, Richard, by gad, I will. Lot Hardacre’s your friend, cousin, don’t you doubt it.”
Richard watched his kinsman ride away, and then went back to the library somewhat hot about the eyes. He was glad that the quarrel was ending so peaceably, and what an angel of sweetness Miss Jilian was, to be sure! Yes, he was ready to go down on his knees and ask her pardon, yet—why did Bess’s face flash up before him of a sudden? Well, he would go down to the Wheat Sheaf and tell Wilson what had happened. And then—then he must do battle with Aunt Letitia.