The bitterness of the sarcasm, reflecting as it did upon his undistinguished appearance, stung Lord Carthew for one moment only, and he winced. Then, recovering himself, with an easy smile, he answered that fortunately for him Mr. Pritchard was not a marrying man, and proposed, indeed, shortly to leave England and seek his fortune out West. In the mean time he should be glad to know whether Sir Philip had any objection to offer against him, Lord Carthew, in the character of candidate for his daughter’s hand. “My parents are extremely desirous that I should at once marry some lady of birth and beauty,” he continued. “My father intends settling fifteen thousand a year and a house in town upon me as soon as my choice is made. But I have hardly ever hoped to see my ideals all realized so perfectly as they are in your lovely and charming daughter.” The two men having come to a thorough understanding, it was hard to say which was the more eager to hurry on the marriage. Even the strongest and hardest of men, to all appearance, usually have one weak spot, one touch of human foolishness about them, and in Sir Philip Cranstoun’s mind there lingered always a haunting fear lest the old gypsy woman’s prophecy of disgrace and shame to be brought upon him by his descendants might some day be verified. Over his wife he exercised the same unquestioned, domineering authority as over the servants of his household; but he had long ago recognized the proud, dumb protest in his daughter’s obedience, and had realized that she inherited something of his own will-power, together with a capability for passionate resentment and other qualities at the existence of which he could but guess. He was all the more relieved at the thought that she would, by her brilliant marriage with the future Earl of Northborough, at once retrieve the mistake he himself had made twenty years ago in wedding Clare Carewe, and relieve his mind from all lurking anxiety on her account. Lord Carthew was evidently a man of originality and strength of purpose; even Sir Philip, who cherished a chronic contempt for nearly all his kind, was compelled to recognize this, and he congratulated himself heartily on his own sagacity in keeping as secret, even from herself, his daughter’s half humble origin. After luncheon Lord Carthew, instead of joining his host in the smoking-room, repaired to the drawing-room, which Stella quitted almost as soon as he entered. He noted her action, and erroneously attributed it to her natural modesty and shyness in not wishing his offer of marriage to be discussed before her mother. But in truth, Stella was not thinking of him at all. She merely wished to be alone that she might think over the emotions of the morning, and she had hardly given a moment’s thought to Lord Carthew and his proposal after that brief but momentous interview with Hilary Pritchard.