"Make some of them stare on the happy day, I think."

"They are certainly very, very beautiful women," replied Lord Henry, smiling and thoughtful.

"Eh--what? Oh, ah--yes: coffee. Thanks; I'll take coffee."

This to Joseph, who brought in a black mixture with some thin hot milk and brown sugar to match. Lord Henry also took a cup, but it was observable that neither gentleman got much farther than a couple of spoonfuls.

"Well," said Elbraham suddenly, stretching out his hairy paws, and examining their fronts and backs, "it's of no use our sitting here drinking wine, is it?"

"Certainly not," said Lord Henry, who had merely sipped the very thin champagne at dinner and taken nothing since.

So the gentlemen adjourned to the drawing-room, where certain conversations took place before they left, the effect of which was to send Mr Elbraham back to town highly elate, and Lord Henry to his old bachelor home a sadder, if not a wiser, man.

He had found his opportunity, or, rather, it had been made for him, and he had plainly asked Marie to be his wife.

"I know I ask you to make a sacrifice," he said--"you so youthful and beautiful, while I am old, and not possessed of the attraction a young man might have in your eyes; but if you will be my wife, nothing that wealth and position can give shall be wanting to make yours a happy home."

He thought Marie had never looked so beautiful before, as with flushed cheeks she essayed to speak, and, smiling as he took her soft, white hand in his, he asked her to be calm and patient with him.

"I dread your refusal," he said; "and yet, old as I am, there is no selfishness in my love. I wish to see you happy, my child--I wish to make you happy."

"She has accepted him," thought Marie; and her heart began to beat with painful violence, for, Clotilde away, who could say that Marcus Glen would not come to her for sympathy, and at last ask her love. She felt that she could not accept Lord Henry's proposal, and she turned her face towards him in an appealing way.

"You look troubled, my child," he said tenderly. "I want you to turn to me as you would to one who has your happiness thoroughly at heart. I want to win your love."

"My--my aunts know that you ask me this, Lord Henry?" she faltered.

"Yes, they know it; and they wish it, for we have quietly discussed the matter, and," he added, with a sad smile, "I have not omitted to point out to them how unsuited to you I am as a match. I throw myself then upon your mercy, Marie, but you must not let fear influence you; I must have your heart, my child, given over to my safe-keeping."

She looked at him wildly.

"Is this hand to be mine?" he whispered. "Will you make the rest of my days blessed with your young love? Tell me, is it to be?"

"Oh, no, no, no, Lord Henry," she said, in a low, excited tone; "I could not, I dare not say yes. Pray, pray do not ask me."

"Shall I give you time?" he whispered; "shall I wait a week--a month, for your answer, and then come again and plead?"

"Oh, no, no, no," she said; "I could--I never could say yes. I like you, Lord Henry, I respect and esteem you--indeed, indeed I do; but I could not become your wife."

"You could not become my wife," he said softly. "No, no, I suppose not.

It was another foolish dream, and I should have been wiser. But you will not ridicule me when I am gone? I ask you to try and think of the old man's love with respect, even if it is mingled with pity, for, believe me, my child, it is very true and honest."

"Ridicule! oh, no, no," cried Marie eagerly, "I could not do that. You ask me to be your wife, Lord Henry: I cannot, but I have always felt that I loved you as--like--"

"You might say a father or some dear old friend?" said Lord Henry sadly.

"Yes, indeed yes!" she cried.

"Be it so, then," he said, holding her hand in his in a sad, resigned way. "You are right; it is impossible. Your young verdant spring and my frosted winter would be ill matched. But let me go on loving you--if not as one who would be your husband, as a very faithful friend."

"Yes, yes, please, Lord Henry," she said; "I have so few friends."

"Then you shall not lose me for one," he continued sadly. "There, there, the little dream is over, and I am awake again. See here, Marie," he said, drawing a diamond and sapphire ring from his pocket, "this was to be your engaged ring: I am going to place it on your finger now as a present from the dear old friend."

She shrank from him, but he retained her hand gently, and she felt the ring glide over her finger, a quick glance showing her that her aunts were seeing everything from behind the books they were reading, becoming deeply immersed, though, as they saw how far matters seemed to have progressed.

Mr Elbraham's wooing was moulded far differently to Lord Henry's.

It was an understood thing that he was to propose that evening, the dinner being given for the purpose.

"There's no confounded tom-fool nonsense about me;" and each time Mr Elbraham said this he took out of the morocco white satin-lined case a brilliant half-hoop ring, set with magnificent stones, breathed on it, held it to the light, moistened it between his lips, held it up again, finished by rubbing it upon his sleeve, and returning it to the case.

"That'll fetch her," he said. "My! what you can do with a woman if you bring out a few diamonds. I shan't shilly-shally: I shall come out with it plump;" but all the same, when by proper manoeuvring the Honourable Misses Dymc.o.x had arranged themselves behind books and left the two couples at opposite ends of the room, while they themselves occupied _dos-a-dos_ the ottoman in the centre, Mr Elbraham did not "out with it plump."

He seated himself as close as decency would permit to Clotilde, and stared at her, and breathed hard, while she returned his look with one that was half mocking, half defiant.

"Been to many parties lately?" he said at last, nothing else occurring to his mind except sentences that he would have addressed to ballet-girls upon their good looks, their agility, and the like.

No; Clotilde had not been to many parties.

"But you like 'em; I'll bet a wager you like 'em?" said Elbraham with a hoa.r.s.e laugh.

Oh yes, Clotilde dearly liked parties when they were nice.

There was another interval of hard breathing, during which Mr Elbraham took out and consulted his watch.

The act of replacing that made him remember the ring in the morocco case, and he thrust his finger and thumb in his vest pocket, but it was not there, and he remembered that he had placed it in his trousers pocket.

This was awkward, for Mr Elbraham was stout and his garments tight.

Still, he would want it directly, and he made a struggle and dragged it out, growing rather red in the face with the effort.

This gave him something else to talk about.

"Ha! it's nice to be you," he said, dropping the case in his vest.

"Why?" said Clotilde, looking amused.

"Because you gal--ladies dress so well; not like us, always in black.

That's a pretty dress."

"Think so?" said Clotilde carelessly.

"Very pretty. I like it ever so, but it isn't half good enough for you.--That's getting on at last," he muttered to himself.

"Oh yes, but it is. Aunt Philippa said it was a very expensive dress."

"Tchh, my dear, rubbish! Why, I would not see anyone I cared for in such a dress as that. I like things rich and good, and the best money can buy."

"Do you?" said Clotilde innocently; but her cheeks began to burn.