“That is sufficient.” Vyner took out his pocket-book, and walked to the door. “Malone,” cried he; and the old man came forward bareheaded and respectful, without a shade of passion on his face. “Malone, I am not so fully assured as I felt last night when I first proposed it, that my plan for your grandchild would be a wise one; at least, reflection has shown me some difficulties about it----” “Just tell me, Sir, do you want to draw back?” said the old man, resolutely, but respectfully. “It would be better that you heard me out,” said Vyner, severely. “I am willing to do all that I offered----” “That will do, Sir. I never doubted the word of a real gentleman.” “I was going to say, that if, instead of taking your child from you, you preferred that I should settle a certain sum of money on her, to be her marriage portion----” “No, Sir; no, Sir. What you offered or nothing. Make her a lady, as you said you would, or leave her where she is.” “I think, my good man, you suffer your hot blood to get the better of your judgment occasionally, and it would be as well if you would give yourself some more time for reflection.” “My blood is just as God gave it to me, neither hotter nor colder; and what I say now, I’d say to-morrow. Keep your word, or break it, whichever you plaze!” “I can very well understand how my friend----” Vyner stopped himself in time, and, after a second’s pause, proceeded: “You hold me, then, to my bargain?” “How can I hould you? You may hould yourself, but _I_ can’t hould you!” Vyner’s cheek flushed, partly with anger, partly with shame, and he said: “With this you will buy what clothes your grandchild will require at present. Do not spend more of it than you like, for these things shall be looked to by others; and this will pay the cost of your journey. I have written down the way you are to go, and also the name and place of my house. My present intention is to be at home within a fortnight; but if you arrive before that, you will be equally welcome.” “Very well, Sir,” said the old man, as he deposited the bank-notes in a leather purse. “I may go now?” “Yes, you may go. Remember, however, Malone, that if between this and next Thursday week, you are inclined to think that my last offer is a better one----” “No fear of that, your honour!” broke in the old man, with a laugh. “I’m a poor man and an ignorant man, but I know what’s best for the stock I come from. It isn’t money we want. It’s the place where we can make money, and more than money;” and with a jerk of his frieze coat over his shoulder, the old fellow strode away down the valley. CHAPTER XV. Mr. M’KINLAY’S MISSION When Mr. M’Kinlay set out from the cottage in Wales, it was in no especial good humour towards Miss Courtenay. She had what is vulgarly called “snubbed him” and this is a process uncommonly painful to a well-to-do middle-aged gentleman, accustomed to a great deal of daily respect, and not a little looked up to in his peculiar sphere.