A VOLUNTARY EXPIATION.
Rose never lost patience. She stayed by the bedside always until the doctor turned her out of the room. She came back the moment she was called, night or day.
Weeks passed and Mr. Rockharrt grew better and stronger, but Rose grew worse and weaker. The fine autumn weather that braced up the convalescent old man chilled and depressed the consumptive young woman.
It was certain that Mr. Rockharrt would entirely regain his health and strength, and even take out a new lease of life.
"I never saw any one like your grandfather in all my long practice," said the doctor to Cora one morning, after he had left his patient; "he is a wonder to me. Nothing but a catastrophe could ever have laid him on an invalid bed; and no other man that I know could have recovered from such injuries as he has sustained. Why in a month from this time he will be as well as ever. He has a constitution of tremendous strength."
"But the poor wife," said Cora.
"Ah, poor soul!" sighed the doctor.
"And yet a little while ago she seemed such a perfect picture of health."
"My dear, wherever you see that abnormally clear, fresh, semi-transparent complexion, be sure it is a bad sign—a sign of unsoundness within."
"Can nothing be done for Rose?"
"Yes; and I am doing it as much as she will let me. I advise a warmer climate for the coming winter. Mr. Rockharrt will be able to travel by the first of November, and he should then take her to Florida. But, you see, he pooh-poohs the whole suggestion. Well—'A willful man must have his way,'" said the doctor, as he took up his hat and bade the lady good-by.
A week after this conversation, on the day on which Aaron Rockharrt first sat up in his easy chair, Rose had her first hemorrhage from the lungs. It laid her on the bed from which she was never to rise.
Cora became her constant and tender nurse. Rose was subdued and patient. A few days after this she said to the lady:
"It seems to me that my own dear father, who has been absent from my thoughts for so many years, has drawn very near his poor child in these last few months, and nearer still in the last few days. I do not see him, nor hear him, nor feel him by any natural sense, but I do perceive him. I do perceive that he is trying to do me good, and that he is glad I am coming to him so soon. I am sorry for all the wrong I have done, and I hope the Lord will forgive me. But how can I expect Him to do it, when I can scarcely forgive—even now on my dying bed I can scarcely forgive—my step-mother and her husband for the neglect and cruelty that wrecked my life? Oh, but I forget. You know nothing of all this."
Cora did know. Fabian had told her; but he had also exacted a promise of secrecy from her; so she said nothing in reply to this.
Rose continued, speaking in a low, meditative tone:
"Yes; I am sorry, sorry for the evil I have done. It was not worth while to do it. Life is too short—too short even at its longest. But, oh! I had such a passionate ambition for recognition by the great world! for the admiration of society! Every one whom I met in our quiet lives told me, either by words or looks, that I was beautiful—very beautiful—and I believed them; and I longed for wealth and rank, for dress and jewels, to set off this beauty, and for ease and luxury to enjoy life. Oh, what vanity! Oh, what selfishness! And here I am, with the grave yawning to swallow me up," she murmured, drearily.
"No, dear; no," said Cora, gently laying her hand on the blue-white forehead of the fading woman. "No, Rose. No grave opens for any human being; but only for the body that the freed human being has left behind. It is not the grave that opens for you, Rose, but your father's arms. Would you like to see a minister, dear?"
"If Mr. Rockharrt does not object."
"Then you shall see one."
Rose's sick room was on the opposite side of the hall from Mr. Rockharrt's convalescent apartment.
If the Iron King felt any sorrow at his young wife's mortal illness, he did not show it. If he felt any compunction for having taxed her strength to its extremity, he did not express it. He maintained his usual stolid manner, and merely issued general orders that no trouble or expense must be spared in her treatment and in her interest. He came into her room every day, leaning on the arm of his servant, to ask her how she felt, and to sit a few minutes by her bed.
Violet could no longer come to Rockhold, because a little Violet bud, only a few days old, kept her a close prisoner at the Banks. But Mr. Fabian came twice a week. The minister from the mission church at North End came very frequently, and as he was an earnest, fervent Christian, his ministrations were most beneficial to Rose.
On the day that Mr. Rockharrt first rode out, the end came, rather suddenly at the last.
There was no one in the house but Cora and the servants, Mr. Clarence having gone back to North End. Cora had left Rose in the care of old Martha, and had come down stairs to write a letter to her brother. She had scarcely written a page when the door was opened by Martha, who said, in a frightened tone:
"Come, Miss Cora—come quick! there's a bad change. I'm 'feard to leave her a minute, even to call you. Please come quick!"
Both went to the bedside of the dying woman, over whose face the dark shadows of death were creeping. Rose could no longer raise her hand to beckon or raise her voice to call, but she fixed her eyes imploringly on Cora, who bent low to catch any words she might wish to say. She was gasping for breath as in broken tones she whispered:
"Cora—the Lord—has given me—grace—to forgive them. Write to—my step-mother. Fabian—will tell you—where—"
"Yes; I will, I will, dear Rose," said Cora, gazing down through blinding tears, as she stooped and pressed her warm lips on the death-cold lips beneath them.
Rose lifted her failing eyes to Cora's sympathetic face and never moved them more; there they became fixed.
The sound of approaching wheels was heard.
"It is my grandfather. Go and tell him," whispered Cora to old Martha without turning her head.
The woman left the room, and in a few moments Mr. Rockharrt entered it, leaning on the arm of his valet.
When he approached the bed, he saw how it was and asked no questions. He went to the side opposite to that occupied by Cora, and bent over the dying woman.
"Rose," he said in a low voice—"Rose, my child."
She was past answering, past hearing. He took her thin, chill hand in his, but it was without life.
He bent still lower over her, and whispered:
"Rose."
But she never moved or murmured.
Her eyes were fixed in death on those of Cora.
Then suddenly a smile came to the dying face, light dawned in the dying eyes, as she lifted them and gazed away beyond Cora's form, and murmuring contented;
"Father, father—" and
"With a sigh of a great deliverance,"
she fell asleep.
They stood in silence over the dead for a few moments, and then Mr. Rockharrt drew the white coverlet up over the ashen face, and then leaning on the arm of his servant went out of the room.
Three days later the mortal remains of Rose Rockharrt were laid in the cemetery at North End.
It was on the first of November, a week after the funeral, that Mr. Rockharrt, for the first time in three months, went to the works.
On that day, while Cora sat alone in the parlor, a card was brought to her—
"The Duke of Cumbervale."
The Duke of Cumbervale entered the parlor.
Cora rose to receive him; the blood rushing to her head and suffusing her face with blushes, merely from the vivid memory of the painful past called up by the sudden sight of the man who had been the unconscious cause of all her unhappiness. Most likely the old lover mistook the meaning of the lady's agitation in his presence, and ascribed it to a self-flattering origin.
However that might have been, he advanced with easy grace, and bowing slightly, said:
"My dear Mrs. Rothsay, I am very happy to see you again! I hope I find you quite well?"
"Quite well, thank you," she replied, recovering her self-control.
In the ensuing conversation, Cora made known her grandfather's accident and the death of Rose.
"I am truly grieved to have intruded at so inopportune a time," asserted the visitor, and arose to take leave.
Then Cora's conscience smote her for her inhospitable rudeness. Here was a man who had crossed the sea at her grandfather's invitation, who had reached the country in ignorance of the family trouble; who had come directly from the seaport to North End, and ridden from North End to Rockhold—a distance of six or seven miles; and she had scarcely given him a civil reception. And now should she let him go all the way back to North End without even offering him some refreshment?
Such a course, under such circumstances, even toward an utter stranger, would have been unprecedented in her neighborhood, which had always been noted for its hospitality.
Yet still she was afraid to offer him any polite attention, lest she should in so doing give him encouragement to urge his suit, that she dreaded to hear, and was determined to reject.
It was not until the visitor had taken his hat in his left hand, and held out the right to bid her good morning, that she forced herself to do her hostess' duty, and say:
"This is a very dull house, duke, but if you can endure its dullness, I beg you will stay to lunch with me."
A smile suddenly lighted up the visitor's cold blue eyes.
"'Dull,' madam? No house can be dull—even though darkened by a recent bereavement—which is blessed by your presence. I thank you. I shall stay with much pleasure."
And now I have done it! thought Cora, with vexation.
At length the clock struck two, the luncheon bell rang, and Cora arose with a smile of invitation. The duke gave her his arm, they went into the dining room. The gray-haired butler was in waiting. They took their places at the table. Old John had just set a plate of lobster salad before the guest when the sound of carriage wheels was heard approaching the house. In a few minutes more there came heavy steps along the hall, the door opened, and old Aaron Rockharrt entered the room. Cora and her visitor both arose.
"Ah, duke! how do you do? I got your telegram on reaching North End; went to the hotel to meet you, and found that you had started for Rockhold. Had your dispatch arrived an hour earlier I should have gone in my carriage to meet you," said the Iron King with pompous politeness.
Now it seemed in order for the visitor to offer some condolence to this bereaved husband. But how could he, where the widower himself so decidedly ignored the subject of his own sorrow? To have said one word about his recent loss would have been, in the world's opinion and vocabulary, "bad form."
"You are very kind, Mr. Rockharrt; and I thank you. I came on quite comfortably in the hotel hack, which waits to take me back," was all that he said.
"No, sir! that hack does not wait to take you back. I have sent it away. Moreover, I settled your bill at the hotel, gave up your rooms, saw your valet, and ordered your luggage to be brought here. It will arrive in an hour," said the Iron King, as he threw himself into the great leathern chair that the old butler pushed to the table for his master's accommodation.
The duke looked at the old man in a state of stupefaction. How on earth should he deal with this purse-proud egotist, who took the liberty of paying his hotel bill, giving up his apartments and ordering his servants? and doing all this without the faintest idea that he was committing an unpardonable impertinence.
"You are to know, duke, that from the time you entered upon my domain at North End, you became my guest—mine, sir! John, that Johannisberg. Fill the duke's glass. My own importation, sir; twelve years in my cellar. You will scarcely find its equal anywhere. Your health, sir."
The duke bowed and sipped his wine.
His future bearing to this old barbarian required mature reflection. Only for the duke's infatuation with Cora, it would have not have needed a minute's thought to make up his mind to flee from Rockhold forthwith.
When luncheon was over Mr. Rockharrt invited the duke into his study to smoke. Before they had finished their first cigar the Iron King, withdrawing his "lotus," and sending a curling cloud of vapor into the air, said:
"You have something on your mind that you wish to get off it, sir. Out with it! Nothing like frankness and promptness."
"You are right, Mr. Rockharrt. I do wish to speak to you on a point on which my life's happiness hangs. Your beautiful granddaughter—"
"Yes, yes! Of course I knew it concerned her."
"Then I hope you do not disapprove my suit."
"I don't now, or I never should have invited you to come over to this country and speak for yourself. The circumstances are different. When I refused my granddaughter's hand to you in London, it was because I had already promised it to another man—a fine fellow, worthy to become one of my family, if ever a man was—and I never break a promise. So I refused your offer, and brought the young woman home, and married her to Rothsay, who disappeared in a strange and mysterious manner, as you may have heard, and was never heard of again until the massacre of Terrepeur by the Comanche Indians—among whom, it seems, he was a missionary—when the news came that he had been murdered by the savages and his body burned in the fire of his own hut. But the horror is two years old now, and I am at liberty to bestow the hand of my widowed granddaughter on whomsoever I please. You'll do as well as another man, and Heaven knows that I shall be glad to have any honest white man take her off my hands, for she is giving me a deal of trouble."
"Trouble, sir? I thought your lovely granddaughter was the comfort and staff of your age, and, therefore, almost feared to ask her hand in marriage. But what is the nature of the trouble, if I may ask?"
"Didn't I tell you? Well, she has got a missionary maggot in her head. It's feeding on all the little brains she ever had. She wants to go out as a teacher and preacher to the red heathen, and spend her life and her fortune among them. She wants to do as Rule did, and, I suppose, die as Rule died. Oh, of course—
"Twas so for me young Edwin did,
And so for him will I!'
"And all that rot. I cannot break her will without breaking her neck. If you can do anything with her, take her, in the Lord's name. And joy go with her."
The young suitor felt very uncomfortable. He was not at all used to such an old ruffian as this. He did not know how to talk with him—what to reply to his rude consent to the proposal of marriage. At length his compassion, no less than his love for Cora, inspired him to say:
"Thank you, Mr. Rockharrt. I will take the lady, if she will do me the honor to trust her happiness to my keeping."
"More fool you! But that is your look-out," grunted the old man.
The next morning when they met at breakfast Mr. Rockharrt invited his guest to accompany him to North End to inspect the iron mines and foundries, the locomotive works and all the rest of it.
The duke had no choice but to accept the invitation.
The two gentlemen left directly after breakfast, and Cora rejoiced in the respite of one whole day from the society of the unwelcome guest.
She saw the house set in order, gave directions for the dinner, and then retired to her own private sitting room to resume her labor of love, the life of her lost husband.
Earlier than usual that afternoon the Iron King returned home accompanied by their guest and by Mr. Clarence, who had come with them in honor of the duke. The evening was spent in a rubber of whist, in which Mr. Rockharrt and the duke, who were partners, were the winners over Cora and Mr. Clarence, their antagonists. The evening was finished at the usual hour with champagne and sago biscuits.
The next morning, when Mr. Rockharrt and Mr. Clarence were about to leave the house for the carriage to take them to North End, the Iron King turned abruptly and said to his granddaughter:
"By the way, Cora, Fabian and Violet are coming to dinner this evening to meet the duke. It will be a mere family affair upon a family occasion, eh, duke! A very quiet little dinner among ourselves. No other guests! Good morning."
And so saying the old man left the house, accompanied by his son.
Cora returned to the drawing room, where she had left the duke. He arose immediately and placed a chair for her; but she waved her hand in refusal of it, and standing, said very politely:
"You will find the magazines of the month and the newspapers of the day on the table of the library on the opposite side of the hall, if you feel disposed to look over them."
"The papers of to-day! How is it possible you are so fortunate as to get the papers of to-day at so early an hour, at so remote a point?" inquired the duke, probably only to hold her in conversation.
"Mr. Clarence Rockharrt's servant takes them from the earliest mail and starts with them for Rockhold. Mr. Rockharrt usually reads the morning papers here before his breakfast."
"A wonderful conquest over time and space are our modern locomotives," observed the duke.
Cora assented, and then said:
"Pray use the full freedom of the house and grounds; of the servants also, and the horses and carriages. Mr. Rockharrt places them all at your disposal. But please excuse me, for I have an engagement which will occupy me nearly all day."
The duke looked disappointed, but bowed gravely and answered:
"Of course; pray do not let me be a hindrance to your more important occupations, Mrs. Rothsay."
"Thank you!" she answered, a little vaguely, and with a smile she left the room,
"Rejoicing to be free!"
The duke anathematized his fate in finding so much difficulty in the way of his wooing, his ladylove evading him with a grace, a coolness, and a courtesy which he was constrained to respect.
He strolled into the library, and then loitered along on the path leading down to the ferry.
Here he found the boat at the little wharf and old Lebanon on duty.
"Sarvint, marster," said the old negro, touching his rimless old felt hat. "Going over?"
"Yes, my man," said the duke, stepping on board the boat.
"W'ich dey calls me Uncle Lebnum as mentions ob me in dese parts, marster," the old ferryman explained, touching his hat.
"Oh, they do? Very well. I will remember," said the passenger, as the boat was pushed off from the shore.
"How many trips do you make in a day?" inquired the fare.
"Pen's 'pon how many people is a-comin' an' goin'. Some days I don't make no trip at all. Oder days, w'en dere's a weddin' or a fun'al, I makes many as fifty."
The passage was soon made, and the duke stepped out on the west bank.
"Is there any path leading to the top of this ridge, Uncle—Lemuel?" inquired the duke.
"Lebnum, young marster, if you please! Lebnum!—w'ich dere is no paff an' no way o' gettin' to de top o' dis wes' range, jes' 'cause 'tis too orful steep; but ef you go 'bout fo' mile up de road, you'd come to a paff leadin' zigzag, wall o' Troy like, up to Siffier's Roos'."
"Zephyr's—what?"
"Roos', marster. Yes, sar. W'ich so 'tis call 'cause she usen to roos' up dar, jes' like ole turkey buzzard. W'en you get up dar, you can see ober free States. Yes, sar, 'cause dat p'ints w'ere de p'ints o' boundy lines ob free States meets—yes, sah!"
"I think I will take a walk to that point. I suppose I can find the path?"
"You can't miss it, sah, if you keeps a sharp look-out. About fo' miles up, sah"
"Very well. Shall you be here when I come back?"
"No, sah. Dis ain't my stoppin' place; t'other side is. But I'll be on de watch dere, and ef you holler for me, I'll come. I'll come anyways, 'cause I'll be sure to see you."
"Quite so," said the duke, as he sauntered up that very road between the foot of the mountain and the bank of the river down which the festive crowd had come on Corona Haught's fatal wedding day.
An hour's leisurely walk brought him to the first cleft in the rock.
From the back of this the path ascended, with many a double, to the wooded shelf on which old Scythia's hut had once stood—hidden. When he reached the spot he found nothing but charred logs, blasted trees, and ashes, as if the spot had been wasted by fire.
A ray of dazzling light darted from the ashes at his feet. In some surprise he stooped to ascertain the cause, and picked up a ring; examined it curiously; found it to be set with a diamond of rare beauty and great value. Then in sudden amazement he turned to the reverse side of the golden cup that clasped the gem and saw a monogram.
"I thought so," he muttered to himself; "I thought that there was not another such a peculiar setting to any gem in the world but that; and now the monogram proves it beyond the shadow of a doubt to be the same. But how in the name of wonder should the lost talisman be found here—in the ashes of some charcoal burner's hut?"
With these words he took out and opened his pocket-book and carefully placed the ring in its safest fold, closed and returned the book to his pocket, and arose and left the spot. The duke turned to descend the mountain.
At length, however, he reached the foot, and then, under the shadow of the ridge that threw the whole narrow valley into premature twilight, he hurried to the ferry.
The boat was not there. Indeed, he had not expected to find it after what old Lebanon had told him. It was too obscure in the valley to permit him to see across the river, so he shouted:
"Boat!"
"All wight, young marster, but needn't split your t'roat nor my brain pan, nider! I can hear you! I's coming!" came the voice from mid-stream, for the old ferryman was already half across the river with a chance passenger.
In a few minutes more the boat grated upon the shore and the passenger jumped out, tipped his hat to the duke, and hurried up the river road toward North End.
"Dat pusson were Mr. Thomas Rylan', fust foreman ober all de founderies. Dere's a many foremen, but he be de fust. Come down long ob de ole mars dis arternoon arter some 'counts, I reckon, an' now gone back wid a big bundle ob papers an' doc'ments. Yes, sah. Get in. I's ready to start," said the ferryman, as he cleared a seat in the stern of the boat for the accommodation of the passenger.
"Who used to live in that hut on the mountain before it was burned down?" inquired the duke as he took his seat.
"Ole Injun 'oman named Siffier."
"Where did she come from?"
"Dunno dat nudder. Nobody dunno."
"Can't you tell me something about such a strange person who lived right here in your neighborhood?"
"Look yere, marster, leas' said soones' mended where she's 'cerned. I can't tell you on'y but jes' dis: She 'peared yere 'bout twenty year ago, or mo'. She built dat dere hut wid her own han's, an' she use to make baskets an' brackets an' sich, an' fetch 'em roun' to de people to sell. She made 'em out'n twigs an' ornimented 'em wid red rose berries an' hollies an' sich, an' mighty purty dey was, an' de young gals liked 'em, dey did. An' she made her libbin outen de money she got for her wares. She use to tell fortins too; an' folks did say as she tole true, an' some did say as she had a tell-us-man ring w'ich, when she wore it, she could see inter de futur; but Lor', young marse, dey was on'y supercilly young idiwuts as b'leibed dat trash! But she nebber would take no money for tellin' fortins—nebber!—w'ich was curous. De berry day as de gubner-leck was missin' ob, she wanished too. When de cons'able went to 'rest her, he foun' her gone an' de hut burnt up. Now, yere we is, young marse, at de lan'in', an' you can get right out yere 'dout wettin' your feet," said the old ferryman, as he pushed the boat up to the dry end of the wharf.
The passenger astonished the old ferryman by putting a quarter of an eagle in his hand, and then sprang from the boat and ran up the avenue leading toward the house. There was no light visible from the windows of the mansion. The dinner party was a strictly private family affair, and nothing but the solitary lamp at the head of the avenue appeared to guide the pedestrian's steps through the darkness of the newly fallen night.
He reached the house, and was admitted by the old servant.
When his toilet was complete, the duke went down to the drawing room to join the family circle.
The dinner, quiet as it was, was a success. To be sure, the diners were all in deep mourning and the conversation was rather subdued; but, then, it was perhaps on that account the more interesting.
The many courses, altogether, occupied more than an hour.
When the cloth was drawn and the dessert placed upon the table, at a signal from the Iron King the butler went around the table and filled every glass with champagne, then returned and stood at his master's back. Mr. Rockharrt arose and made a speech, and proposed a toast that greatly astonished his company and compromised two of them. With his glass in his hand, he said:
"My sons, daughters, and friend: You all doubtless understand the object of this family gathering, and also why this celebration of an interesting family event must necessarily be confined to the members of the family. In a word, it is my duty and pleasure to announce to you all the betrothal in marriage of his grace the Duke of Cumbervale and my granddaughter, Mrs. Corona Rothsay. I propose the health of the betrothed pair."
Cora put down her glass and turned livid with dismay and indignation. All the other diners, the duke among them, arose to the occasion and honored the toast, and then sat down, all except the duke, who remained standing, and though somewhat embarrassed by this unexpected proceeding on the part of the Iron King, yet vaguely supposed it might be a local custom, and at all events was certainly very much pleased with it. Being in love and being taken by surprise, he could not be expected to speak sensibly, or even coherently. He said:
"Ladies and gentlemen: This is the happiest day of my life as yet. I look forward to a happier one in the near future, when I shall call the lovely lady at my side by the dearest name that man can utter, and I shall call you not only my dear friends, but my near relatives. I propose the health of the greatest benefactor of the human race now living. The man who, by his mighty life's work, has opened up the resources of nature, compelled the everlasting mountains to give up their priceless treasures of coal and iron ore; given employment to thousands of men and women; made this savage wilderness of rock, and wood, and water 'bloom and blossom as the rose,' and hum with the stir of industry like a myriad hives of bees. I propose the health of Mr. Aaron Rockharrt."
All, except Cora, arose and honored this toast.
Mr. Fabian Rockharrt replied on the part of his father.
Then the health of each member of the party was proposed in turn. When this was over the two ladies withdrew from the table and went into the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their wine.
"Oh, my dear, dear Cora! I am so glad! I wish you joy with my whole, whole heart!" exclaimed Violet, effusively, but most sincerely and earnestly, as she clasped Corona to her heart. The next instant she let her go and gazed at Cora in surprise and dismay.
"Why, what is the matter, Cora? You are as white and as cold as death. What is the matter?" demanded Violet as she led and half supported Corona to an easy chair, in which the latter dropped.
"Tell me, Cora. What is it, dear? What can I do for you? Can I get you anything? Is all this emotion caused by the announcement of your betrothal to the duke?" demanded Violet, hurrying question upon question, and trembling even more than Cora.
"Sit down, Violet. Never mind me. I shall be all right presently. Don't be frightened, darling," said Cora, as well as she could speak.
"But let me do something for you!"
"You can do nothing."
"But what caused this?"
"My feelings have been outraged!—outraged! That is all!"
"How? How? Surely not by Mr. Rockharrt's announcement of your betrothal to the duke? It was rather embarrassing to the betrothed pair, I admit; but surely it was the proper thing to do."
"'The proper thing to do!' Violet, it was false! false! I am not betrothed to the duke. I never was. I never shall be. I would not marry an emperor to share a throne. My life is consecrated to good works in the very field in which my dear husband died. I have said this to my grandfather and to you all, over and over again. If it had not been for Mr. Rockharrt's accident that endangered his life, I should have gone out to the Indian Territory with my brother, and should have been at work there at this present time. I shall go at the first opportunity."
Cora spoke very excitedly, being almost beside herself with wrath and shame at the affront which had been put upon her.
"I thought the duke was an old admirer of yours, and had come over on purpose to marry you," said Violet.
"That is too true. He came against my will. I have never given him the slightest encouragement. How could I when my life is consecrated to the memory of my husband and to the work he left unfinished? I fear Mr. Rockharrt assured the duke of my hand; and when he heard the false announcement of our betrothal, he took it for granted that it was all right. He must have done so; though he himself was much taken by surprise."
"How very strange of Mr. Rockharrt to do such a thing. If I had been you, Cora, I should have got up and disclaimed it."
"No you would not. You would not have made a scene at the dinner table. I was in no way responsible for the announcement made by my grandfather, and in no way bound by it. The silence that seemed to indorse it was rendered absolutely necessary under the circumstances."
"But what shall you do about it?"
"As soon as I can speak of it without making a scene, I shall tell Mr. Rockharrt and the Duke of Cumbervale that a most reprehensible liberty has been taken with my name. I will say that I never have been, and never will be, engaged to the Duke of Cumbervale, or to any other man. That is what I shall do about it."
"It would mortify the duke very much."
"I do not care if it does."
"And, indeed, it would put Mr. Rockharrt into a terrible rage."
"I cannot help it. Here come the gentlemen."
At that moment the four gentlemen entered the drawing room. The duke came directly up to Cora, and bending over her, said in a low voice inaudible to the rest of the party:
"Corona, you have blessed me beyond the power of words to express! Only the dedication of a life to your happiness—"
There the ardent lover was suddenly stopped by the cold look of surprise in Cora's eyes. His face took on a disturbed expression.
"I think there is some serious mistake here, sir, which we may set right at some more fitting opportunity. Will you have the kindness not to refer to the comedy enacted at our dinner table to-night?"
"I will obey you, although I do not understand you," said the duke.
"Oblige me, duke! I want to show you a map of the projected Oregon and Alaska railroad," said the Iron King, coming toward his guest with a roll of parchment in his hands.
The duke immediately arose and went off with his host to a distant table, where the map was spread out, and the two gentlemen sat down to examine it. Mr. Fabian and Mr. Clarence came over to join Cora and Violet.
"This is a pretty march you have stolen on us, Cora! I had no more idea of this than the man in the moon! But I congratulate you, my dear! I congratulate you! Your present from me shall be a set of the most splendid diamonds that can be got together by the diamond merchants of Europe. No mere set that can be picked up ready set, eh? Diamonds that shall grace a duchess, my dear!" said Mr. Fabian ostentatiously.
"Cora, my dear, I was as much surprised as Fabian. But, oh! I was happy for your sake. The duke is a good fellow, I am sure, and awfully in love with you. Ah! didn't he offer a just and heartfelt tribute to the father! I declare, Cora, I never fully appreciated my father, or realized what a great benefactor he was to the human race, until the duke made that little speech in proposing his health. How appreciative the duke is! Really, Cora, dear, you are a very happy woman, and I congratulate you with all my heart and soul; indeed, I do," said Mr. Clarence, wringing the young lady's hand, and turning away to hide the tears that filled his eyes.
"Thank you, Uncle Clarence. Thank you, Uncle Fabian. I am grateful for your congratulations, on account of your good intentions; but—congratulations are quite uncalled for on this occasion."
"Why—what on earth do you mean, Cora?" inquired Mr. Fabian, while Mr. Clarence looked full of uneasiness.
"I mean that I have never been engaged to the Duke of Cumbervale, and never mean to marry him. Mr. Rockharrt's announcement was unauthorized and unfounded. It was just an act of his despotic will, to oblige me to contract a marriage which he favors."
The two men looked on the speaker in mute amazement.
"We will not talk more of this to-night. But the matter must be set right to-morrow," said Cora.
A little later Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt took leave and departed for their home.