But though the banker's daughter received two or three more eligible offers of marriage, she politely declined them all, and stole away as often as she could to worship the pictured image in the old tower.
Her chaperone was in despair.
"How many good men and brave has she refused, do you know, Lemuel?" inquired Lady Belgrade.
"Seven, to my certain knowledge," angrily replied the banker.
"Perhaps she likes some one you know nothing about," suggested the dowager.
"She does not; I would let her marry almost any man rather than have her enter a convent, as she is sure to do when she is of age. I would let her marry any one; aye, even Johnnie Scott, who is the most worthless scamp I know in the world."
"And pray who is Johnnie Scott!"
"Oh, a handsome rascal; is sort of kinsman and hanger-on of the young Marquis of Arondelle; he used to be. I don't know anything more about him."
"Perhaps he is the man."
"Oh, no, he is not. There is no man in the convent. Well, we go up to London again in February. It will be her last season. If she does not fall in love or marry before May, when she will be twenty-one years of age, she will immure herself in a convent, as I am pledged not to prevent her."