“Kilcullen,” said the earl, “you’ve neither heart nor principle: you have done your worst to ruin me, and now you come to insult me in my own room. Say what you want to say, and then leave me.” “As to insulting language, my lord, I think you need not complain, when you remember that you have just called me a swindler, because I have been unable to accomplish your wish and my own, by marrying my cousin. However, I will let that pass. I have done the best I could to gain that object. I did more than either of us thought it possible that I should do, when I consented to attempt it. I offered her my hand, and assured her of my affection, without falsehood or hypocrisy. My bargain was that I should offer to her. I have done more than that, for I have loved her. I have, however, been refused, and in such a manner as to convince me that it would be useless for me to renew my suit. If your lordship will allow me to advise you on such a subject, I would suggest that you make no further objection to Fanny’s union with Lord Ballindine. For marry him she certainly will.” “What, sir?” again shouted Lord Cashel. “I trust Fanny will receive no further annoyance on the subject. She has convinced me that her own mind is thoroughly made up; and she is not the person to change her mind on such a subject.” “And haven’t you enough on hand in your own troubles, but what you must lecture me about my ward?—Is it for that you have come to torment me at this hour? Had not you better at once become her guardian yourself, sir, and manage the matter in your own way?” “I promised Fanny I would say as much to you. I will not again mention her name unless you press me to do so.” “That’s very kind,” said the earl. “And now, about myself. I think your lordship will agree with me that it is better that I should at once leave Grey Abbey, when I tell you that, if I remain here, I shall certainly be arrested before the week is over, if I am found outside the house. I do not wish to have bailiffs knocking at your lordship’s door, and your servants instructed to deny me.” “Upon my soul, you are too good.” “At any rate,” said Kilcullen, “you’ll agree with me that this is no place for me to remain in.” “You’re quite at liberty to go,” said the earl. “You were never very ceremonious with regard to me; pray don’t begin to be so now. Pray go—to-night if you like. Your mother’s heart will be broken, that’s all.” “I trust my mother will be able to copy your lordship’s indifference.” “Indifference! Is sixty thousand pounds in one year, and more than double within three or four, indifference? I have paid too much to be indifferent. But it is hopeless to pay more. I have no hope for you; you are ruined, and I couldn’t redeem you even if I would. I could not set you free and tell you to begin again, even were it wise to do so; and therefore I tell you to go. And now, good night; I have not another word to say to you,” and the earl got up as if to leave the room.