Many possibilities floated through Mr. West’s brain as he sat for some moments in silence revolving this offer. Levanter and Montycute were all that this impetuous young fellow had described. He had good blood in his veins; he was handsome, clever, rising, whilst they were like leeches, ready to live upon him, and giving nothing in exchange but their barren names. This man’s career was already talked of; he could vouch for one success, which had agreeably affected his own pocket, and, with the proverbial gratitude, he looked in the same direction for favours to come. He had an eloquent tongue, a ready pen, and a fiery manner that carried all before it. He would go into the House, he would (oh! castle-building Mr. West) be one of the great men--Chancellor of the Exchequer--some day. He shut his eyes--he saw it all. He saw his son-in-law addressing the House, and every ear within its walls hanging on his words. He saw himself, a distinguished visitor, and Madeline among the peeresses. Laurence Wynne, keen and acute, was convinced that some grand idea was working in his companion’s mind, and struck while the iron was hot. “May I hope for your consent, sir?” he asked quickly. “Well, yes, you may, if you can win her. You are welcome, as far as I am concerned. Yes!” holding out his rather short, stubby hand, with one big diamond blazing on his little finger. “It’s time she was settled, and I’m afraid she will never be what she was, as regards her looks. I did hanker after a ready-made title, but one can’t have everything! I like you. You are tolerant of an old man’s whims; you don’t laugh at me under my own roof, and think I don’t see it like some young cubs; you are a gentleman, and I give you Maddie and welcome, now that I have talked it over; but the hitch, you will find, will be the girl herself. She is, as you may see, utterly broken down and altered, and in no mind to listen to a love-tale; but, well or ill, I must tell you honestly that I would not give much for your chance.” “What would you say, sir,” said Laurence, now becoming a shade paler, “if I were to tell you that I had won her _already_?” Mr. West looked at him sharply. “The deuce you have! And when?” “More than three years ago.” “What! before I came home? when she was at Harpers’? Were _you_ the half-starved fellow that I heard was hanging about? Oh, never!” “I don’t think I was half-starved, but I was most desperately in love with her.” “Oh, so it’s an old affair?” “Yes, an old affair, as you say, Mr. West. And you have given me Madeline if I can win her, have you not?--that is a promise?” “Yes,” rather impatiently. “I never go back on a promise.”