“What is she going to England for?”
“Love-sickness,—to cure it. Her mother told me that she had been jilted. She is going to visit relatives in London.”
“What a mean man!” exclaimed Nina. Then she added, sentimentally, “She will forget him,
“‘For love fares hardly on ingratitude;
And love dies quickly nurtured by deceit;
And love turns hatred captured by a cheat.’”
Captain Fordyce listened in an attention so fascinated and so flattering that Nina thought well to turn his thoughts in another direction, and therefore asked, shrewdly, “Was that nobleman mad because he couldn’t sit by you at dinner?”
“I guess he was, Miss New England,” said her husband, with a sigh, “but he is not a nobleman.”
“He has a title.”
“He was knighted on the occasion of some royal celebration. He was a mayor of a Cheshire city at the time,—made his money in coal.”