"Certainly, my dear," promptly responded the Iron King.
"As you please," coldly replied Cora.
"I—yes—thank you; I think it would be very nice," foolishly observed Mr. Clarence, who was just now reduced to a state of imbecility by the stunning announcement of his father's intended marriage.
But all three had spoken at the same time, so that Rose Stillwater heard but one voice clearly, and that was the Iron King's.
Mr. Clarence, however, went and opened the piano for her. Then old Mr. Rockharrt arose, went to the instrument slowly and deliberately, put his youngest son aside, wheeled up the music stool, seated her and then—
"The monarch o'er the siren hung
And beat the measure as she sung,
And pressing closer and more near,
He whispered praises in her ear."
"It is 'The Lion in Love,' of Æsop's fable. He will let her draw his teeth yet," said Mr. Clarence, in a low tone, quite drowned in the joyous swell of the music.
"No, it is not. A man of his age does not fall in love, I feel sure. And she will never gain one advantage over him. He likes her society and her servitude and her flatteries. He will take them all, and more than all, if he can; but he will give nothing, nothing in return," murmured Cora.
"But why does he give her this attention to-day? It is unusual."
"To show us that he will do her honor; place her above us, as he said; but that will not outlast their wedding day, if indeed they marry."