“Stop, sir,” said Lady Eleanor; “I never could suppose you meant to offend me intentionally,--I cannot permit of your doing so through inadvertence or ignorance. I will therefore request that this conversation may cease. Age has many privileges, Mr. Hickman, but there are some it can never confer: one of these is the right to insult a lady and--a mother.” The last words were sobbed rather than spoken: affection and pride, both outraged together, almost choked her utterance, and Lady Eleanor sat down trembling in every limb, while the old man, only half conscious of the emotion he had evoked, peered at her in stolid amazement through his spectacles. Any one who knew nothing of old Hickman's character might well have pitied his perplexity at that moment; doubts of every kind and sort passed through his mind as rapidly as his timeworn faculties permitted, and at last he settled down into the conviction that Lady Eleanor might have thought his demand respecting fortune too exorbitant, although not deeming the proposition, in other respects, ineligible. To this conclusion the habits of his own mind insensibly disposed him. “Ay, my Lady,” said he, after a pause, “'tis a deal of money, no doubt; but it won't be going out of the family, and that's more than could be said if you refuse the offer.” “Sir!” exclaimed Lady Eleanor, in a tone that to any one less obtusely endowed would have been an appeal not requiring repetition; but the old man had only senses for his own views, and went on:-- “They tell me that Mr. Lionel is just as free with his money as his father; throws it out with both hands, horse-racing and high play, and every extravagance he can think of. Well, and if that's true, my Lady, sure it 's well worth while to think that you 'll have a decent house to put your head under when your daughter's married to Beecham. He has no wasteful ways, but can look after the main chance as well as any boy ever I seen. This notion about Miss Helen is the only thing like expense I ever knew him take up, and sure”--here he dropped his voice to soliloquy--“sure, maybe, that same will pay well, after all--ay!” “My head! my head is bursting with blood,” sighed Lady Eleanor; but the last words alone reached Hickman's ears. “Ay! blood's a fine thing, no doubt of it, but, faith, it won't pay interest on a mortgage; nor I never heard of it staying the execution of a writ! 'T is little good blood I had in my veins, and yet I contrived to scrape a trifle together notwithstanding--ay!” “I do not feel myself very well, Mr. Hickman,” said Lady Eleanor; “may I request you will send my daughter to me, and excuse me if I wish you a good morning.” “Shall I hint anything to the young lady about what we were saying?” said he, in a tone of most confidential import.