“Well, good night,” said Mat; and the two turned off towards their bed-rooms. As they passed from the billiard-room through the hall, Lord Cashel shuffled out of his room, in his slippers and dressing-gown. “Kilcullen,” said he, with a great deal of unconcerned good humour affected in his tone, “just give me one moment—I’ve a word to say to you. Goodnight, Mr Tierney, goodnight; I’m sorry to hear we’re to lose you to-morrow.” Lord Kilcullen shrugged his shoulders, winked at his friend and then turned round and followed his father. “It’s only one word, Kilcullen,” said the father, who was afraid of angering or irritating his son, now that he thought he was in so fair a way to obtain the heiress and her fortune. “I’ll not detain you half a minute;” and then he said in a whisper, “take my advice, Kilcullen, and strike when the iron’s hot.” “I don’t quite understand you, my lord,” said his son, affecting ignorance of his father’s meaning. “I mean, you can’t stand better than you do with Fanny: you’ve certainly played your cards admirably, and she’s a charming girl, a very charming girl, and I long to know that she’s your own. Take my advice and ask her at once.” “My lord,” said the dutiful son, “if I’m to carry on this affair, I must be allowed to do it in my own way. You, I dare say, have more experience than I can boast, and if you choose to make the proposal yourself to Miss Wyndham on my behalf, I shall be delighted to leave the matter in your hands; but in that case, I shall choose to be absent from Grey Abbey. If you wish me to do it, you must let me do it when I please and how I please.” “Oh, certainly, certainly, Kilcullen,” said the earl; “I only want to point out that I think you’ll gain nothing by delay.” “Very well, my lord. Good night.” And Lord Kilcullen went to bed, and the father shuffled back to his study. He had had three different letters that day from Lord Kilcullen’s creditors, all threatening immediate arrest unless he would make himself responsible for his son’s debts. No wonder that he was in a hurry, poor man! And Lord Kilcullen, though he had spoken so coolly on the subject, and had snubbed his father, was equally in a hurry. He also received letters, and threats, and warnings, and understood, even better than his father did, the perils which awaited him. He knew that he couldn’t remain at Grey Abbey another week; that in a day or two it wouldn’t be safe for him to leave the house; and that his only chance was at once to obtain the promise of his cousin’s hand, and then betake himself to some place of security, till he could make her fortune available.