"And you did so without any thought of me. But you said you would be my brother, and I shall not forget your promise. Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have come,--both for papa's sake and my own. You have done him so much good that I only dread to think that you are going so soon." "I'll be back before long. I think nothing of running across here from Norfolk. You'll see enough of me before next summer." Soon after breakfast on the next morning he got Mr. Amedroz out into the grounds, on the plea of showing him the proposed site for the cattle shed; but not a word was said about the shed on that occasion. He went to work at his other task at once, and when that was well on hand the squire was quite unfitted for the consideration of any less important matter, however able to discuss it Belton might have been himself. "I've got something particular that I want to say to you, sir," Belton began. Now Mr. Amedroz was of opinion that his cousin had been saying something very particular ever since his arrival, and was rather frightened at this immediate prospect of a new subject. "There's nothing wrong; is there?" "No, nothing wrong;--at least, I hope it's not wrong. Would not it be a good plan, sir, if I were to marry my cousin Clara?" What a terrible young man! Mr. Amedroz felt that his breath was so completely taken away from him that he was quite unable to speak a word of answer at the moment. Indeed, he was unable to move, and stood still, where he had been fixed by the cruel suddenness of the proposition made to him. "Of course I know nothing of what she may think about it," continued Belton. "I thought it best to come to you before I spoke a word to her. And I know that in many ways she is above me. She is better educated, and reads more, and all that sort of thing. And it may be that she'd rather marry a London man than a fellow who passes all his time in the country. But she couldn't get one who would love her better or treat her more kindly. And then as to the property; you must own it would be a good arrangement. You'd like to know it would go to your own child and your own grandchild;--wouldn't you, sir? And I'm not badly off, without looking to this place at all, and could give her everything she wants. But then I don't know that she'd care to marry a farmer." These last words he said in a melancholy tone, as though aware that he was confessing his own disgrace.