For a long time neither of them spoke. The baron wiped the perspiration from his brow and tried to frame together the words which proved so troublesome to utter, while Manners sat, ill at ease, waiting to hear the worst.

"Most young men fall in love," exclaimed the knight at length. He jerked the words out rather than spoke them, but they were at least uttered, and feeling that he had broken the ice he heaved a sigh of relief.

"I did so myself," he innocently rambled on, "more than once." He had almost said "and once too many," but he paused with the words upon his lips, and the recollection that Lady Maude might not be far away decided him to leave the remark unexpressed.

"I have done so, too, once and for ever," exclaimed Manners, mustering up courage enough to break into the subject at a stroke. He felt that it must all come out now, and the sooner it was over the better pleased would he be; therefore he plunged headlong into it, hoping, perchance, to fire the baron with a little of the same enthusiasm with which he was himself possessed.

"It has been my good fortune," he continued boldly, "to fall deeply in love with your daughter, your Dorothy--and she has not spurned me."

"No, Doll is a rare girl, a bonnie girl, and a good one, too. I love her better than I love myself, and forsooth, young man, we value ourselves at no sorry figure neither."

"I wonder whoever saw her that did not love her," said the deeply-smitten swain sententiously.

They were both engaged in conversation now in common sympathy, and the eyes of the old knight sparkled with joy as he thought of his darling and her many charms.

"She is the light of my life," he replied. "See, there she goes, with her bewitching grace," and he caught hold of Manners and drew him into the recess of the oriel window and pointed out where Dorothy and her sister were talking together on the green.

"Margaret is to wed Sir Thomas Stanley this autumn, I hear," ventured the esquire.

"Yes--and Dorothy is to be wedded this winter also," replied the baron as he heard the partner of his joys pa.s.s again outside the door.

"This winter!" echoed Manners in blank dismay. "Dorothy to be wedded this winter! To whom, I pray?"

"To Sir Edward Stanley."

Manners staggered back against the wall as though he had been smitten by some invisible hand. His face blanched, his lips quivered, and he gasped for very breath. This was news indeed, far beyond his worst antic.i.p.ations, and he was almost crushed by the blow.

The baron watched him with a feeling akin to dismay. He hated his unpleasant task, and half regretted the promise he had made Sir Thomas Stanley. He pitied the unfortunate esquire who stood before him, and sincerely blamed himself for accepting the business, and the dame for thrusting it upon him.

Manners soon rallied, much to Sir George's relief; and the two sat down together at the little table. The baron, tried to express his sympathy with him in his great disappointment which had just come upon him, but his words were clumsy, and afforded no relief.

"It is not yet quite decided upon, is it?" asked the young man.

"We expect Sir Edward now at any time," the knight replied.

"But, Sir George, Dorothy has plighted her troth to me."

"Ah, we know it; Margaret has told us of it. 'Twas a foolish thing to do."

"And Father Philip blessed the match," pursued Manners.

"But she has been promised to Edward Stanley," was the quiet reply, "and a Vernon's promise is never broken, never."

The two remained silent awhile. Sir George had made wonderful progress with his mission of late--a fact due to the knowledge that Lady Vernon was standing just outside the door; and before either of them spoke again she entered the room, and making a formal courtesy to the visitor, she advanced to her husband's side.

"You have told Master Manners, I suppose?" she inquired in a harsh, unfeeling voice that stabbed the lover's heart by every word.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, looking as if he were ashamed of the whole business, "I have told him all."

"But surely you cannot understand Dorothy's feelings in the----"

"Dorothy will do as we desire," interrupted Lady Maude, severely.

"Do you really love your daughter, Sir George?" asked Manners, in desperation. "Then I conjure you by all the affection towards her you possess, that in this, matter you consult her happiness. I cannot live without her, and she will fade away like a tender flower if you baulk her choice."

"Do I love her?" repeated Sir George, impatiently. "Aye, that I do; am I not her father?"

"Hush, Sir George," interrupted Lady Vernon, "Master Manners is outrageous. I will talk with him, and you can depart an you wish it."

Nothing loth, Sir George turned to go; glad to wash his hands of the whole affair, and feeling thoroughly ashamed that it had ever fallen to his lot to treat a guest in so inhospitable a fashion.

"I am sorry, Master Manners," continued the dame, as she watched the retreating figure of her lord, "that Sir George has played his part so ill. It had been kinder on his part had he introduced the subject in another way, but he is ill-fitted for matters of business."

Manners had heard the rustle of her gown outside the door some time before Lady Vernon had entered, and he shrewdly suspected that she had been listening to the conversation. The manner in which she re-opened the subject at once convinced him that his conjecture was right, and knowing the integrity of the baron he was ready to defend him.

"Sir George meant well enough," he said.

"Come now, Master Manners, that was bravely said," replied the lady.

"He has a kind heart, but it is apt to be too kind at times, and then I have to go over it all again; you understand?"

"Perfectly, but Lady Vernon----"

"And you will perceive that we are within our rights in disposing of Dorothy as we wish," she continued. "Of course, she will consent to it in time."

"Never," returned Manners, stoutly.

"You are but a youth, therefore you are bold, but mark my words, young man, you will have less faith and more caution as your years come on."

"Will you accept Dorothy's choice?" asked Manners bluntly, disregarding the last remark.

"Do you suppose, Master Manners," replied Lady Vernon, "that Dorothy will withstand us? We are all agreed in the matter."

"All except Dorothy, maybe."

"And _she_ will soon----"

"I tell you never!" he replied hotly.

Lady Vernon laughed; a light, incredulous sort of laugh, which only tended to enstrange them farther still.

"There are considerations of which you appear to be ignorant, sir,"

she replied, "but I am not willing to wound your feelings."

"That may be, and yet, perchance, there may be somewhat to be said on the other side," he calmly rejoined.

Lady Vernon fixed her eyes upon him, astounded at his presumption, but instead of crushing him under an avalanche of her wrath, she restrained herself, and broke into another superficial burst of laughter.

"Pooh," she said, "you are simply an esquire, and he is a knight."