"My dear Miss Noel,—My son has commissioned me to write to you, thinking, as I think, that the business to be arranged will be better settled between you and myself. I am glad to tell you that at last, after many months of infatuation, my son has returned to his senses, and has now but one idea, which is at once and forever to put an end to all acquaintance between you and himself. My son owns that it was a great mistake; he blames himself entirely, and quite exculpates you; he holds you blameless. Permit me to say that I do the same.
"My son, having recovered his senses, sees that a marriage between you and himself would be quite impossible. He regrets having promised it, and begs that you will forgive what seems to be a breach of that promise; but it is really the best and wisest plan of his life. Neither your birth, training, education, manners, nor appearance fit you to hold the position that my son's wife must hold. You must, therefore, consider the whole affair at an end; it was, at its worst, a piece of boyish folly and indiscretion, while you are blameless. It is my son's wish that ample compensation should be made to you, and I have placed the matter in the hands of Mr. Sewell, my lawyer, whom I have instructed to settle a thousand per annum on you. Let me add, further, that if ever you are in any pecuniary difficulty, I shall find a pleasure in helping you.
"One thing more: Lord Chandos is engaged to be married to one of the wealthiest women in England—a marriage which makes his father and myself extremely happy, which opens to him one of the finest careers ever opened to any man, and will make him one of the happiest of men. Let me add an earnest hope that your own good sense will prevent any vulgar intrusion on your part, either on my son or the lady to whom he is passionately attached. You will not need to answer this letter. Lord Chandos does not wish to be annoyed by any useless appeals; in short, no letter that you write will reach him, as we are traveling from place to place, and shall be so until the wedding-day.
"In conclusion, I can but say I hope you will look at the matter in a sensible light. You, a farmer's niece, have no right to aspire to the position of an earl's wife, and you have every reason to think yourself fortunate that worse has not happened.
"Lucia, Countess of Lanswell."
"There," said my lady, as she folded up the letter, "to most people that would be a quietus. If she has half as much spirit as I give her credit for, that little touch about the 'vulgar intrusion' will prevent her from writing to him. I think this will effectually put an end to all further proceedings."
She sealed the letter and sent it, at the same time sending one to her solicitor, Mr. Sewell, telling him of the happy event pending, and begging of him to arrange with the girl at once.
"If one thousand a year does not satisfy her, offer her two; offer her anything, so that we are completely rid of her. From motives of prudence it would be better for her to leave that place at once; advise her to go abroad, or emigrate, or anything, so that she may not annoy us again, and do not write to me about her; I do not wish to be annoyed. Settle the business yourself, and remember that I have no wish to know anything about it."
That letter was sent with the other, and my lady sunk back with an air of great relief.
"Thank Heaven!" she said to herself, "that is over. Ah, me! what mothers have to suffer with their sons, and yet few have been so docile as mine."
A few days afterward the countess sought her son. She had no grounds for what she said, but she imagined herself speaking the truth.
"Lance," she said, "I have good news for you. That tiresome little affair of yours is all settled, and there will be no need for us ever to mention the subject again. The girl has consented to take the thousand a year, and she—she is happy and content."
He looked at her with haggard eyes.
"Happy and content, mother?" he said. "Are you quite sure of that?"