"Seems like—like a judgment on me; as if heaven were angry and meant to throw obstacles in the way——."
"Oh, my dear Eleanor!"
"Yes! You don't know—you don't understand what I feel! And I felt so happy, so safe! and now—How long do you think it will be necessary to put it off?"
Lady Denby was very nearly shocked.
"The suddenness of this terrible news has upset you, Eleanor," she said, gravely; "but for heaven's sake don't talk so—so callously."
"You do not know!" repeated Lady Eleanor, with a deep sigh. "It is not that I do not feel for them. Ah, yes, I do, keenly; as keenly as you can; but—but it is as if it were fated that something should occur to prevent our marriage." She was silent for a moment; and then she said, as if to herself: "He will be the duke. I am sorry."
"Sorry!" Lady Denby stared at her.
"Yes," said Lady Eleanor, in the same low, reflective voice. "Yes; I would rather he was what he is, and—and poor. I would rather that he owed everything to me. Now—now it will be I who will owe much to him."
"That is as fine a sample of pride as I have ever met with," said Lady Denby.