Mr. Hilton nodded for the second time, as if he listened to something that he knew, and yet something that he was pleased to hear put into words. "I shall not even be able to save Lyndwood or the property in the North. My credit is strained to the utmost, and it is only a matter of days before the brokers seize even my personal effects." He smiled rather insolently and looked fixedly at his listener. "Do you care to repeat what you said when last we met, Mr. Hilton?" "The proposal I made you, my lord?" "Yes." Mr. Hilton clasped the arm of his chair with his right hand; his left fondled the ruby watch-chain, his lips were set firmly, and a little sparkle danced in his eyes. "I repeat that proposal, my lord." "You understand my position, Mr. Hilton--that I am a penniless man?" "I understand, my lord, what a nobleman's ruin means. I will assume the worst--that your debts are immense, the Jews outrageous, the creditors flint, that you have obligations, hungry relations and the like, and still I make you the offer I made you a year ago." Lord Lyndwood flushed faintly. "I have come to accept it, Mr. Hilton." The elder man rose abruptly. "I thought," he said, in a soft tone, "that it could be only a question of time, my lord." The Earl was now on his feet, too. "Let us put this matter formally," he said, and his grey eyes were afire. "I request the honour of your daughter's hand in marriage. Now is it Yes?" The colour had deepened in his face, and the knot of the black silk cravat on his breast rose and fell quickly; but for that he had the appearance of complete composure. "It is Yes, my lord," answered Mr. Hilton. "From this moment Lavinia is your betrothed wife"--he uttered the words as if they gave him intense pleasure, and repeated them--"your betrothed wife." The Earl stood silent, his right hand closed down on the hilt of his sword, his eyes on Mr. Hilton, who took a sharp turn about the room, then stopped before him. "What are your debts?" he asked; and his fingers were busily caressing his watch-chain. "How much do you owe the Jews, and what is the mortgage on Lyndwood? But no matter, that is a business affair, we must see the lawyers," he smiled; "all shall be paid--every penny," his smile deepened; "it is good to have money, is it not, my lord?" "It is necessary," said my lord, and he also smiled. "As I have found----" Mr. Hilton moved slowly away and contemplated Rose Lyndwood out of wholly triumphant eyes. The great chamber, the rich paintings, the gilt mirrors were his, bought with his money; this man, Rose Lyndwood, eighteenth Earl of Lyndwood, aristocrat and proud, the most famous beau in town, this man was his also, bought as surely as the gaudy furniture against which he stood. This was Mr. Hilton's crude thought, and the Earl read it. "You are satisfied?" he asked in a tone that was an insult. "I am satisfied, my lord; the debts within a week, the wedding within a month."