out of
his own head, and out of his own heart. "I cannot write it," he said,
throwing down the pen. "My blood is in such a tumult that I cannot
steady my hand."

"You must not be so tumultuous, Oswald, or I shall have to live in a
whirlwind."

"Oh, I shall shake down. I shall become as steady as an old stager.
I'll go as quiet in harness by-and-by as though I had been broken
to it a four-year-old. I wonder whether Laura could not write this
letter."

"I think you should write it yourself, Oswald."

"If you bid me I will."

"Bid you indeed! As if it was for me to bid you. Do you not know that
in these new troubles you are undertaking you will have to bid me in
everything, and that I shall be bound to do your bidding? Does it not
seem to be dreadful? My wonder is that any girl can ever accept any
man."

"But you have accepted me now."

"Yes, indeed."

"And you repent?"

"No, indeed, and I will try to do your biddings;--but you must not be
rough to me, and outrageous, and fierce,--will you, Oswald?"

"I will not at any rate be like Kennedy is with poor Laura."

"No;--that is not your nature."

"I will do my best, dearest. And you may at any rate be sure of this,
that I will love you always. So much good of myself, if it be good, I
can say."

"It is very good," she answered; "the best of all good words. And now
I must go. And as you are leaving Loughlinter I will say good-bye.
When am I to have the honour and felicity of beholding your lordship
again?"

"Say a nice word to me before I am off, Violet."

"I,--love,--you,--better,--than all the world beside; and I mean,--to
be your wife,--some day. Are not those twenty nice words?"

He would not prolong his stay at Loughlinter, though he was asked
to do so both by Violet and his sister, and though, as he confessed
himself, he had no special business elsewhere. "It is no use mincing
the matter. I don't like Kennedy, and I don't like being in his
house," he said to Violet. And then he promised that there should be
a party got up at Saulsby before the winter was over. His plan was
to stop that night at Carlisle, and write to his father from thence.
"Your blood, perhaps, won't be so tumultuous at Carlisle," said
Violet. He shook his head and went on with his plans. He would then
go on to London and down to Willingford, and there wait for his
father's answer. "There is no reason why I should lose more of
the hunting than necessary." "Pray don't lose a day f