Part 6 (1/2)

”The only woman? Is that so?” Lady Gore asked.

”It is indeed,” he said, with conviction.

”And you are--how old?”

”Thirty-two.”

”It sounds as if this were the real thing, I must say,” she said, with a smile.

”There is not much doubt of that,” said he quietly. ”There never was any one more certain than I am of what I want.”

”That is a step towards getting it,” Lady Gore said.

”I believe it is,” he said fervently. ”You have told me all the things your daughter has not--that I am thankful she hasn't--but I know, besides, the things she has that go to make her the only woman I want to pa.s.s my life with--she is everything a woman ought to be--she really is.”

”My dear young friend,” said Lady Gore, with a shallow pretence of laughing at his enthusiasm, ”you really are rather far gone!”

”Yes,” said Rendel, ”there is no doubt about that. I have not, by the way, attempted to tell you about things that are supposed to matter more than those we have been talking about, but that don't matter really nearly so much--I mean my income and prospects, and all that sort of thing. But perhaps I had better tell Sir William all that.”

”You can tell him about your income,” said Lady Gore, ”if you like.”

”I have enough to live upon,” the young man said. ”I don't think that on that score Sir William can raise any objection.”

”Let us hope he won't on any other,” she replied. ”We must tell him what he is to think.”

”And my chances of getting on, though it sounds absurd to say so, are rather good,” he went on. ”Lord Stamfordham will, I know, help me whenever he can; and I mean to go into the House, and then--oh, then it will be all right, really.”

At this moment the door opened and Sir William came in.

”You are the very person we wanted,” his wife said.

”You want to apologise to me for the conduct of your party, I suppose,”

said Gore to Rendel, half in jest, half in earnest, as he shook hands.

”I'm very sorry, Sir William,” said Rendel, ”if we've displeased you.

Pray don't hold me responsible.”

”Oh yes,” said Lady Gore lightly, to give Rendel time, ”one always holds one's political adversary responsible for anything that happens to displease one in the conduct of the universe.”

”I hope,” said Rendel, trying to hide his real anxiety, ”that Sir William will try to forgive me for the action of my party, and everything else. Pray feel kindly towards me to-day.”

Sir William looked at him inquiringly, affecting perhaps a more unsuspecting innocence than he was feeling. Rendel went on, speaking quickly and feeling suddenly unaccountably nervous.

”I have come here to tell you--to ask you----” He stopped, then went on abruptly, ”This morning, at Maidenhead, I asked your daughter to marry me.”

”What, already?” said Sir William involuntarily. ”That was very prompt.

And what did she say?”

”She said it was impossible,” Rendel answered, encouraged more by Gore's manner and his general reception of the news than by his actual words.