PAYING his court to the ex-schoolmistress on the next day,Hardyman made such excellent use of his opportunities that thevisit to the stud-farm took place on the day after. His owncarriage was placed at the disposal of Isabel and her aunt; andhis own sister was present to confer special distinction on thereception of Miss Pink.

In a country like England, which annually suspends the sitting ofits Legislature in honor of a horse-race, it is only natural andproper that the comfort of the horses should be the first objectof consideration at a stud-farm. Nine-tenths of the land atHardyman's farm was devoted, in one way or another, to the noblequadruped with the low forehead and the long nose. Poor humanitywas satisfied with second-rate and third-rate accommodation. Theornamental grounds, very poorly laid out, were also very limitedin extent--and, as for the dwelling-house, it was literally acottage. A parlor and a kitchen, a smoking-room, a bed-room, anda spare chamber for a friend, all scantily furnished, sufficedfor the modest wants of the owner of the property. If you wishedto feast your eyes on luxury you went to the stables.

The stud-farm being described, the introduction to Hardyman'ssister follows in due course.

The Honorable Lavinia Hardyman was, as all persons in societyknow, married rather late in life to General Drumblade. It issaying a great deal, but it is not saying too much, to describeMrs. Drumblade as the most mischievous woman of her age in allEngland. Scandal was the breath of her life; to place people infalse positions, to divulge secrets and destroy characters, toundermine friendships, and aggravate enmities--these were thesources of enjoyment from which this dangerous woman drew theinexhaustible fund of good spirits that made her a brilliantlight in the social sphere. She was one of the privileged sinnersof modern society. The worst mischief that she could work wasascribed to her "exuberant vitality." She had that readyfamiliarity of manner which is (in _her_ class) so rarelydiscovered to be insolence in disguise. Her power of easyself-assertion found people ready to accept her on her own termswherever she went. She was one of those big, overpowering women,with blunt manners, voluble tongues, and goggle eyes, who carryeverything before them. The highest society modestly considereditself in danger of being dull in the absence of Mrs. Drumblade.Even Hardyman himself--who saw as little of her as possible,whose frankly straightforward nature recoiled by instinct fromcontact with his sister--could think of no fitter person to makeMiss Pink's reception agreeable to her, while he was devoting hisown attentions to her niece. Mrs. Drumblade accepted the positionthus offered with the most amiable readiness. In her own privatemind she placed an interpretation on her brother's motives whichdid him the grossest injustice. She believed that Hardyman'sdesigns on Isabel contemplated the most profligate result. Toassist this purpose, while the girl's nearest relative wassupposed to be taking care of her, was Mrs. Drumblade's idea of"fun." Her worst enemies admitted that the honorable Lavia hadredeeming qualities, and owned that a keen sense of humor was oneof her merits.

Was Miss Pink a likely person to resist the fascinations of Mrs.Drumblade? Alas, for the ex-schoolmistress! before she had beenfive minutes at the farm, Hardyman's sister had fished for her,caught her, landed her. Poor Miss Pink!

Mrs. Drumblade could assume a grave dignity of manner when theoccasion called for it. She was grave, she was dignified, whenHardyman performed the ceremonies of introduction. She would notsay she was charmed to meet Miss Pink--the ordinary slang ofsociety was not for Miss Pink's ears--she would say she felt thisintroduction as a privilege. It was so seldom one met withpersons of trained intellect in society. Mrs. Drumblade wasalready informed of Miss Pink's earlier triumphs in theinstruction of youth. Mrs. Drumblade had not been blessed withchildren herself; but she had nephews and nieces, and she wasanxious about their education, especially the nieces. What asweet, modest girl Miss Isabel was! The fondest wish she couldform for her nieces would be that they should resemble MissIsabel when they grew up. The question was, as to the best methodof education. She would own that she had selfish motives inbecoming acquainted with Miss Pink. They were at the farm, nodoubt, to see Alfred's horses. Mrs. Drumblade did not understandhorses; her interest was in the question of education. She mighteven confess that she had accepted Alfred's invitation in thehope of hearing Miss Pink's views. There would be opportunities,she trusted, for a little instructive conversation on thatsubject. It was, perhaps, ridiculous to talk, at her age, offeeling as if she was Miss Pink's pupil; and yet it exactlyexpressed the nature of the aspiration which was then in hermind.

In these terms, feeling her way with the utmost nicety, Mrs.Drumblade wound the net of flattery round and round Miss Pinkuntil her hold on that innocent lady was, in every sense of theword, secure. Before half the horses had been passed underreview, Hardyman and Isabel were out of sight, and Mrs. Drumbladeand Miss Pink were lost in the intricacies of the stables."Excessively stupid of me! We had better go back, and establishourselves comfortably in the parlor. When my brother misses us,he and your charming niece will return to look for us in thecottage." Under cover of this arrangement the separation becamecomplete. Miss Pink held forth on education to Mrs. Drumblade inthe parlor; while Hardyman and Isabel were on their way to apaddock at the farthest limits of the property.

"I am afraid you are getting a little tired," said Hardyman."Won't you take my arm?"

Isabel was on her guard: she had not forgotten what Lady Lydiardhad said to her. "No, thank you, Mr. Hardyman; I am a betterwalker than you think."

Hardyman continued the conversation in his blunt, resolute way."I wonder whether you will believe me," he asked, "if I tell youthat this is one of the happiest days of my life."

"I should think you were always happy," Isabel cautiouslyreplied, "having such a pretty place to live in as this."

Hardyman met that answer with one of his quietly-positivedenials. "A man is never happy by himself," he said. "He is happywith a companion. For instance, I am happy with you."

Isabel stopped and looked back. Hardyman's language was becominga little too explicit. "Surely we have lost Mrs. Drumblade and myaunt," she said. "I don't see them anywhere."

You will see them directly; they are only a long way behind."With this assurance, he returned, in his own obstinate way, tohis one object in view. "Miss Isabel, I want to ask you aquestion. I'm not a ladies' man. I speak my mind plainly toeverybody--women included. Do you like being here to-day?"

Isabel's gravity was not proof against this very downrightquestion. "I should be hard to please," she said laughing, "if Ididn't enjoy my visit to the farm."

Hardyman pushed steadily forw ard through the obstacle of thefarm to the question of the farm's master. "You like being here,"he repeated. "Do you like Me?"

This was serious. Isabel drew back a little, and looked at him.He waited with the most impenetrable gravity for her reply.

"I think you can hardly expect me to answer that question," shesaid

"Why not?"

"Our acquaintance has been a very short one, Mr. Hardyman. And,if _you_ are so good as to forget the difference between us, Ithink _I_ ought to remember it."

"What difference?"

"The difference in rank."

Hardyman suddenly stood still, and emphasized his next words bydigging his stick into the grass.

"If anything I have said has vexed you," he began, "tell me soplainly, Miss Isabel, and I'll ask your pardon. But don't throwmy rank in my face. I cut adrift from all that nonsense when Itook this farm and got my living out of the horses. What has aman's rank to do with a man's feelings?" he went on, with anotheremphatic dig of his stick. "I am quite serious in asking if youlike me--for this good reason, that I like you. Yes, I do. Youremember that day when I bled the old lady's dog--well, I havefound out since then that there's a sort of incompleteness in mylife which I never suspected before. It's you who have put thatidea into my head. You didn't mean it, I dare say, but you havedone it all the same. I sat alone here yesterday evening smokingmy pipe--and I didn't enjoy it. I breakfasted alone thismorning--and I didn't enjoy _that_. I said to myself, She'scoming to lunch, that's one comfort--I shall enjoy lunch. That'swhat I feel, roughly described. I don't suppose I've been fiveminutes together without thinking of you, now in one way and nowin another, since the day when I first saw you. When a man comesto my time of life, and has had any experience, he knows whatthat means. It means, in plain English, that his heart is set ona woman. You're the woman."

Isabel had thus far made several attempts to interrupt him,without success. But, when Hardyman's confession attained itsculminating point, she insisted on being heard.

"If you will excuse me, sir," she interposed gravely, "I think Ihad better go back to the cottage. My aunt is a stranger here,and she doesn't know where to look for us."

"We don't want your aunt," Hardyman remarked, in his mostpositive manner.

"We do want her," Isabel rejoined. "I won't venture to say it'swrong in you, Mr. Hardyman, to talk to me as you have just done,but I am quite sure it's very wrong of me to listen."

He looked at her with such unaffected surprise and distress thatshe stopped, on the point of leaving him, and tried to makeherself better understood.

"I had no intention of offending you, sir," she said, a littleconfusedly. "I only wanted to remind you that there are somethings which a gentleman in your position--" She stopped, triedto finish the sentence, failed, and began another. "If I had beena young lady in your own rank of life," she went on, "I mighthave thanked you for paying me a compliment, and have given you aserious answer. As it is, I am afraid that I must say that youhave surprised and disappointed me. I can claim very little formyself, I know. But I did imagine--so long as there was nothingunbecoming in my conduct--that I had some right to your respect."

Listening more and more impatiently, Hardyman took her by thehand, and burst out with another of his abrupt questions.

"What can you possibly be thinking of?" he asked.

She gave him no answer; she only looked at him reproachfully, andtried to release herself.

Hardyman held her hand faster than ever.

"I believe you think me an infernal scoundrel!" he said. "I canstand a good deal, Miss Isabel, but I can't stand _that_. Howhave I failed in respect toward you, if you please? I have toldyou you're the woman my heart is set on. Well? Isn't it plainwhat I want of you, when I say that? Isabel Miller, I want you tobe my wife!"

Isabel's only reply to this extraordinary proposal of marriagewas a faint cry of astonishment, followed by a sudden tremblingthat shook her from head to foot.

Hardyman put his arm round her with a gentleness which his oldestfriend would have been surprised to see in him.

"Take your time to think of it," he said, dropping back againinto his usual quiet tone. "If you had known me a little betteryou wouldn't have mistaken me, and you wouldn't be looking at menow as if you were afraid to believe your own ears. What is thereso very wonderful in my wanting to marry you? I don't set up forbeing a saint. When I was a younger man I was no better (and noworse) than other young men. I'm getting on now to middle life. Idon't want romances and adventures--I want an easy existence witha nice lovable woman who will make me a good wife. You're thewoman, I tell you again. I know it by what I've seen of youmyself, and by what I have heard of you from Lady Lydiard. Shesaid you were prudent, and sweet-tempered, and affectionate; towhich I wish to add that you have just the face and figure that Ilike, and the modest manners and the blessed absence of all slangin your talk, which I don't find in the young women I meet within the present day. That's my view of it: I think for myself.What does it matter to me whether you're the daughter of a Dukeor the daughter of a Dairyman? It isn't your father I want tomarry--it's you. Listen to reason, there's a dear! We have onlyone question to settle before we go back to your aunt. Youwouldn't answer me when I asked it a little while since. Will youanswer now? _Do_ you like me?"

Isabel looked up at him timidly.

"In my position, sir," she asked, "have I any right to like you?What would your relations and friends think, if I said Yes?"

Hardyman gave her waist a little admonitory squeeze with his arm

"What? You're at it again? A nice way to answer a man, to callhim "Sir," and to get behind his rank as if it was a place ofrefuge from him! I hate talking of myself, but you force me toit. Here is my position in the world--I have got an elderbrother; he is married, and he has a son to succeed him, in thetitle and the property. You understand, so far? Very well! Yearsago I shifted my share of the rank (whatever it may be) on to mybrother's shoulders. He is a thorough good fellow, and he hascarried my dignity for me, without once dropping it, ever since.As for what people may say, they have said it already, from myfather and mother downward, in the time when I took to the horsesand the farm. If they're the wise people I take them for, theywon't be at the trouble of saying it all over again. No, no.Twist it how you may, Miss Isabel, whether I'm single or whetherI'm married, I'm plain Alfred Hardyman; and everybody who knowsme knows that I go on my way, and please myself. If you don'tlike me, it will be the bitterest disappointment I ever had in mylife; but say so honestly, all the same."

Where is the woman in Isabel's place whose capacity forresistance would not have yielded a little to such an appeal asthis?

"I should be an insensible wretch" she replied warmly, "if Ididn't feel the honor you have done me, and feel it gratefully."

"Does that mean you will have me for a husband?" asked downrightHardyman.

She was fairly driven into a corner; but (being a woman) shetried to slip through his fingers at the last moment.

"Will you forgive me," she said, "if I ask you for a little moretime? I am so bewildered, I hardly know what to say or do for thebest. You see, Mr. Hardyman, it would be a dreadful thing for meto be the cause of giving offense to your family. I am obliged tothink of that. It would be so distressing for you (I will saynothing of myself) if your friends closed their doors on me. Theymight say I was a designing girl, who had taken advantage of yourgood opinion to raise herself in the world. Lady Lydiard warnedme long since not to be ambitious about myself and not to forgetmy station in life, because she treated me like her adopteddaughter. Indeed--indeed, I can't tell you how I feel yourgoodness, and the compliment--the very great compliment, you payme!My heart is free, and if I followed my own inclinations--" Shechecked herself, conscious that she was on the brink of sayingtoo much. "Will you give me a few days," she pleaded, "to try ifI can think composedly of all this? I am only a girl, and I feelquite dazzled by the prospect that you set before me."

Hardyman seized on those words as offering all the encouragementthat he desired to his suit.

"Have your own way in this thing and in everything!" he said,with an unaccustomed fervor of language and manner. "I am so gladto hear that your heart is open to me, and that all yourinclinations take my part."

Isabel instantly protested against this misrepresentation of whatshe had really said, "Oh, Mr. Hardyman, you quite mistake me!"

He answered her very much as he had answered Lady Lydiard, whenshe had tried to make him understand his proper relations towardsIsabel.

"No, no; I don't mistake you. I agree to every word you say. Howcan I expect you to marry me, as you very properly remark, unlessI give you a day or two to make up your mind? It's quite enoughfor me that you like the prospect. If Lady Lydiard treated you asher daughter, why shouldn't you be my wife? It stands to reasonthat you're quite right to marry a man who can raise you in theworld. I like you to be ambitious--though Heaven knows it isn'tmuch I can do for you, except to love you with all my heart.Still, it's a great encouragement to hear that her Ladyship'sviews agree with mine--"

"They don't agree, Mr. Hardyman!" protested poor Isabel. "You areentirely misrepresenting--"

Hardyman cordially concurred in this view of the matter. "Yes!yes! I can't pretend to represent her Ladyship's language, oryours either; I am obliged to take my words as they come to me.Don't disturb yourself: it's all right--I understand. You havemade me the happiest man living. I shall ride over to-morrow toyour aunt's house, and hear what you have to say to me. Mindyou're at home! Not a day must pass now without my seeing you. Ido love you, Isabel--I do, indeed!" He stooped, and kissed herheartily. "Only to reward me," he explained, "for giving you timeto think."

She drew herself away from him--resolutely, not angrily. Beforeshe could make a third attempt to place the subject in its rightlight before him, the luncheon bell rang at the cottage--and aservant appeared evidently sent to look for them.

"Don't forget to-morrow," Hardyman whispered confidentially."I'll call early--and then go to London, and get the ring."