“Sir Philip,” Lord Carthew had begun, plunging at once into his subject, as he seated himself deliberately in a deep arm-chair, “first, I must thank you for the hospitality extended to my friend and myself since yesterday evening. You have no doubt heard of my friend’s unlucky accident, entirely the result of our trespassing in your grounds. Next, I must inform you that while out riding this morning, I made your daughter an offer of marriage.” “Indeed, Mr.--Pritchard, I think the name is?” “No, that is not my name, but that of my friend upstairs. To please a whimsical fancy of my own, we had changed names for the nonce during our travels. My name is Lord Carthew, and my father, Lord Northborough, is connected with Lady Cranstoun’s family.” “May I ask if you are in the habit of going about under an _alias_?” “I don’t think I have ever had occasion to use any name but my own until yesterday. The point is, that as Miss Cranstoun expressed an indifference to titles which almost amounted to hostility, I took advantage of the fact to continue the jest, and to do my wooing in the name of my old college friend, whose people are gentlemen farmers in Yorkshire.” “Very romantic,” sneered Sir Philip. “May I ask whether this ‘Lord of Burleigh’ style of courtship won my daughter’s heart?” “I could not say that. Miss Cranstoun has known me a few hours only, and I am not possessed of those graces and attractions which charm at first sight. But at least she did not repel me, and even promised to think about the matter, subject, of course, to your approval.” It was difficult for Sir Philip to keep all signs of his satisfaction from his hard and impassive face. “I will tell you plainly, Lord Carthew,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “that after what you have told me, I shall require better proofs of your identity than your bare word if you wish me to consider you in the light of a suitor to my daughter’s hand. We Cranstouns are, as you may know, among the oldest, absolutely the oldest families in England, and on her mother’s side my daughter is granddaughter to the Duke of Lanark. I do not think my daughter is especially attached to me, although she is most devoted to my wife. But she has been brought up in habits of the strictest obedience, and would not think of encouraging any admirer without my full sanction. Had you been this Mr. Pritchard you were pleased to personate, I should most certainly have never given it.” “My friend is a gentleman, sir,” returned Lord Carthew, coldly; “and a man of such high character and superb appearance that any girl might well fall in love with him, and any father be proud to be connected with him.” “In that case, you must pardon me for saying so, but are you not committing an error of judgment in taking him with you when you go wife-hunting?”