"My dearest child, what are you thinking or talking about? Nothing
can be clearer than your title."
"Well," said Cashel, blushing, "a lot of people used to make out
that you weren't married at all."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Byron, indignantly. "Oh, they DARE not say
so! Impossible. Why did you not tell me at once?"
"I didn't think about it," said Cashel, hastily excusing himself. "I
was too young to care. It doesn't matter now. My father is dead,
isn't he?"
"He died when you were a baby. You have often made me angry with
you, poor little innocent, by reminding me of him. Do not talk of
him to me."
"Not if you don't wish. Just one thing, though, mamma. Was he a
gentleman?"
"Of course. What a question!"
"Then I am as good as any of the swells that think themselves her
equals? She has a cousin in the government office; a fellow who
gives out that he is the home secretary, and most likely sits in a
big chair in a hall and cheeks the public. Am I as good as he is?"
"You are perfectly well connected by your mother's side, Cashel. The
Byrons are only commoners; but even they are one of the oldest
county families in England."
Cashel began to show signs of excitement. "How much a year are they
worth?" he demanded.
"I do not know how much they are worth now. Your father was always
in difficulties, and so was his father. But Bingley is a miser. Five
thousand a year, perhaps."
"That's an independence. That's enough. She said she couldn't expect
a man to be so thunderingly rich as she is."
"Indeed? Then you have discussed the question with her?"
Cashel was about to speak, when a servant entered to say that Miss
Carew was in the library, and begged that they would come to her as
soon as they were quite disengaged. When the maid withdrew he said,
eagerly, "I wish you'd go home, mamma, and let me catch her in the library by
herself. Tell me where you live, and I'll come in the evening and
tell you all about it. That is, if you have no objection."
"What objection could I possibly have, dearest one? Are you sure
that you are not spoiling your chance by too much haste? She has no
occasion to hurry, Cashel, and she knows it."
"I am dead certain that now is my time or never. I always know by
instinct when to go in and finish. Here's your mantle."