Upon the death of her mama, several years previously, persons who were not particularly acquainted with the Earl had thought that it was fortunate, after all, that she had been left on the shelf. She would be able, said the optimistic, to comfort her stricken parent, and to take her mama’s place as the Mistress of Brancaster Park, and of the house in Green Street. But as the Earl had disliked his wife he was by no means stricken by her death; and as he was looking forward to an untrammelled single existence he regarded his eldest daughter not as a comfort but as an encumbrance. Indeed, he had been heard to say, when in his cups, that he was no better off than before.

His feelings, when, recovering from a momentary stupefaction, he realized that Sir Gareth Ludlow was actually soliciting permission to marry his daughter, almost overcame him. He had given up all hope of seeing her respectably married: that she should achieve a brilliant match had never for an instant occurred to him. An unwelcome suspicion that Sir Gareth must be a trifle bosky crossed his mind, but there was nothing in Sir Gareth’s manner or appearance to lend the slightest colour to it, and he banished it. He said bluntly: “Well, I should be very well pleased to give her to you, but I’d better tell you at the outset that her portion isn’t large. In fact, I shall be devilish hard put to it to raise the wind at all.”

“It is really quite immaterial,” responded Sir Gareth. “If Lady Hester will do me the honour to accept me, I shall of course make whatever settlement upon her that our attorneys think proper.”

Greatly moved by these beautiful words, the Earl gave Sir Gareth’s suit his blessing, invited him to Brancaster Park the following week, and himself cancelled three sporting engagements, leaving London on the very next day to prepare his daughter for the singular stroke of good fortune which was about to befall her.