“But—what is this? Why, you were in America at that time,” and he began to fidget uneasily.
“Yes, sir; I met the lady in America.”
“Ah, ha!”
This time Lord Dunforth scowled disapprobation. He had the English prejudice against English nobility intermarrying with American plebeianism, so-called.
Adrian noticed his look, and his heart sank.
“My lord,” he said, “you have seen the lady, and acknowledged her loveliness. I heard you tell Sir Charles that she was very beautiful, and too much of a lady for the position which she occupies. I assure you, and I speak advisedly, that she is of good birth, and fitted in every way to be my wife. She is companion to Lady Ruxley. Have I still your permission to marry her?”
His lordship stared at his grandson in dismay.
“Miss Dundas, Adrian!” he exclaimed, aghast, his fine face flushing a deep crimson.
“Miss Douglas, my lord,” corrected Adrian, somewhat proudly.
His lordship did not notice the correction. His head was bent in deep thought, his brow was knotted, his lips compressed. At length, looking up, he said, with emotion: