“She’s a clever one, is Jilian,” he said. “Egad, sir, she has given me the wink. Break her sweet heart, the dear, tough wench! I must foot it nobly, sir, before my cousin, the poet, smite my brotherly bussum, and cry, ‘Behold, sir, here lies a brother’s honor.’ Richard’s a sweet, trustful lad. Leave him to me, sir; I’ll see that Jill has her husband.” The baronet chuckled, and sat down in his leather-bottomed chair before the fire. He lay back, exposing his generous paunch, and winked at his son over his shoulder. “Richard will make a good son-in-law, Lot,” he observed. “Jill will milk his pockets for him, sir.” Sir Peter nodded and beamed greedily. “And we’ll have some of the butter, Lot,” he said; “an easy mortgage would be deuced convenient. What does the young dog want with all his thousands lying idle? They would serve us better than they would him. We want a new coach and a new stud, and, damme, I should like a house in town again. Dick Jeffray’s a nice lad, Lot. When do you think of riding over to Rodenham?” Mr. Hardacre yawned, stretched his legs, and looked cunningly at his father. “This afternoon, sir,” he said, with a grin. “The old harridan thinks she has spoiled our sport, but I guess she has given us a great opportunity. I will put it to Mr. Richard like a brother. If he don’t see it in the sentimental light, sir, I’ll just do a little bullying.” “And have Jill weeping over his grave!” Mr. Lot laughed loudly and thumped his chest. “You’ll do it all right, Lot,” said the baronet; “damme, you will.” “Leave him to me, sir. Sister Jill shall have her husband.” Thus, with the wind blowing briskly through Pevensel and the clouds rolling like great purple chariots over the distant downs, Mr. Lancelot rode out in quest of the Hardacre honor, and came trotting through Rodenham park betwixt the beeches and the cedars. Mr. Lot was dressed in his best brown riding-suit, with a silver-mounted sword at his side, and a new tie-wig perched on his solid round pate. His blue eyes twinkled in his fiery face, and he swore softly to himself and patted his horse’s neck. Gladden answered the clanging bell with the usual inscrutable smirk upon his face. Mr. Hardacre announced the fact that he desired to see Mr. Jeffray alone, his manner demanding unequivocal obedience on the part of the butler. Richard was reading in the library at the moment, having left Dick Wilson at the inn. The Lady Letitia still kept her chamber, having sent word to her nephew that she was still prostrated after the unpleasant experiences of the night.