"Oh, sir! pray do not set your face against my marriage with Cumbervale, or insist on my marrying Rule! It would not be for Rule's good," pleaded Cora.
"No; Heaven knows it would not be for his good! It had been better for Rothsay that he had been blown up in the explosion that killed his father, than that he had ever set eyes on your false face! But you have given him your word, and you must keep it, or never look me in the face again! You shall be married as soon as we reach Rockhold."
Cora raised her tearful face from her hands, and looked astonished and wretched.
"Oh, you may gaze, but it is true. The fortune hunter has discovered that he is on a false scent. There is no fortune on the trail. I told him everything about you. I told him that you were not my heiress at all, because I had two sons who would inherit all my property; that you were not even your father's heiress, because you had a brother who would inherit the larger portion of his; that, in point of fact, you were only moderately provided for. He was startled, I assure you. I also told him that for years you had been engaged to a young printer in your native country, who would probably be the next governor of his native State. He bowed himself out. I engaged our passage to New York by the Saturday's steamer. You will never see the little dandy again. He was after a fortune, and finding that you have none, he has forsaken you—and served you right, for a base, treacherous, and contemptible woman, unworthy even of his regard; for you are much lower in every way than he is, for while he was seeking a fortune and you were seeking a title, you were concealing from him the fact of your engagement to Rule Rothsay. You were doubly false to Rule and to Cumbervale. Oh, Cora Haught! Cora Haught! Are you not ashamed of yourself! Ashamed to look any honest man or woman in the face! Ah! you do well to hide yours!" he concluded, for Cora had lost all self-control, dropped her head upon her hands, and burst into hysterical sobs and tears.
Did you ever see a small bantam hen ruffle up all her feathers in angry defense of her chick? So did poor little, timid Mrs. Rockharrt in protection of her pet. She ventured to expostulate with her tyrant for, perhaps, the first time in their married life.
"Oh, Aaron, do not scold the child so severely. She is but human. She has only been dazzled and fascinated by the young duke's rank, and beauty, and elegance. She could not help it, being thrown in his company so much. And you know they say that half the girls in London society are in love with the handsome duke. We will take her home, and she will come all right, and be our own, dear, faithful Cora again, and—"
Old Aaron Rockharrt, who had gazed at his wife in speechless astonishment at her audacity in reasoning with him, now burst forth with:
"Hold your jaw, madam," and strode out of the room.
A minute later a waiter came in and laid a note on the table before Cora and immediately withdrew.
Cora took the missive, recognized the handwriting and seal, tore it open and eagerly ran her eyes along the lines. This was the note: