“Do you think me a fool, my lord? Do you imagine that any one of common sense would or should overlook such an element between parties who propose to marry? Whatever my son may do--who is deeply attached to Miss Riddle--I am sure I do not, nor will not, overlook it; you may rest assured of that, my lord.” Old Cockletown looked keenly at her, and their eyes met; but, after a long and steady gaze, the eyes of the old peer quailed, and he felt, when put to an encounter with hers, that to which was attributed such extraordinary influence. There sparkled in her steady black orb a venomous exultation, mingled with a spirit of strong and contemptuous derision, which made the eccentric old nobleman feel rather uncomfortable. His eye fell, and, considering his age, it was decidedly a keen one. He fidgeted upon the chair--he coughed, hemmed, then looked about the room, and at length exclaimed, rather in a soliloquy,-- “Second fiddle! egad, I'm afraid had we been man and wife I should never have got beyond it. Poor Lindsay! It's confoundedly odd, though.” “Well, Mrs. Lindsay--ahem--pray proceed, madam; let us come to the property. How does your son stand in that respect?” “He will have twelve hundred a year, my lord.” “I told you before, Mrs. Lindsay, that I--don't like the future tense--the present for me. What has he?” “It can scarcely be called the future tense, my lord, which you seem to abhor so much. Nothing stands between him and it but a dying girl.” “How is that, madam?” “Why, my lord, his Uncle Hamilton, my brother, had a daughter, an only child, who died of decline, as her mother before her did. This foolish child was inveigled into an unaccountable affection for the daughter of Mr. Goodwin--a deep, designing, artful girl--who contrived to gain a complete ascendency over both father and daughter. For months before my niece's death this cunning girl, prompted by her designing family, remained at her sick bed, tended her, nursed her, and would scarcely allow a single individual to approach her except herself. In short, she gained such an undue and iniquitous influence over both parent and child, that her diabolical object was accomplished.” “Diabolical! Well, I can see nothing diabolical in it, for so far. Affection and sympathy on the one hand, and gratitude on the other--that seems much more like the thing. But proceed, madam.”