“I hold you to that promise,” said Foxwell, quickly, “and to what you mentioned in regard to terms of settlement.” “As to providing for you, and so forth? You’ll find me as good as my word: I’ll have my lawyer ready for yours the minute she gives her consent.” “’Tis but a girl’s coyness that stands in the way: we shall break that in a little time.” “Nay, no force, neither!” said Thornby. “It must be of her own free will—she must tell me herself she takes me willingly—you’re to persuade, not compel.” “Certainly.” “I dare say I’d best not see her again to-day,” the Squire faltered. “Not for a few days, at the least, I should advise.” “Well, I suppose you know. I’ll do my best to bide patient for two days.” “But I scarcely hope to change her mind within a week,” said Foxwell, thoughtfully. “I’ll come to see how you fare, nevertheless.—If you _do_ succeed sooner than you hope, send me word immediately.” Left alone, Foxwell paced the hall, in cogitation. He was joined presently by Rashleigh. “Egad, Bob, your meditations must have grown pleasanter, to make you smile to yourself.” “Was I smiling? Well, you must know my excellent niece has received an offer of marriage—a mighty advantageous one. The little fool spurns it: the Jacobite stands in the way, of course, and will as long as he is alive to communicate with her. I shall have to do my duty as a loyal subject of King George, I see.” “But will she be the more favourable to another suitor, while the one she loves is about being hanged?” “Perhaps I can keep the Jacobite’s fate from her knowledge. ’Tis plain he hasn’t told her of our bargain: he probably will not tell her—probably will but announce his departure on some pretext—may indeed say nothing of it, leaving us to break it. I will deliver him up to-night, but not in her presence. At ten o’clock his claims cease. If he has meanwhile prepared her for his going, well and good: if not, she shall think he has taken sudden leave for his own reasons. Hearing no more of him, she will put his silence down to inconstancy; in that case, pride may incline her to the other man. If she learns the truth, she will be too broken to resist my persuasions long.—I’m sorry for the rebel: but there’s much at stake for me in the affair—and ’tis only what he agreed to and expects—what he risked before ever I saw him—his just deserts under the law. The girl will suffer, too,—but not for many days. I hope he will not tell her the full truth.” Everell himself was in doubt as to what he should tell her. He was trying still to postpone consideration of the end so close at hand. He was sorely perplexed for her sake, for he knew now how far beyond mere compassion her love was. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XII TEARS