"Who is he?"
"The Baron de la Chasse. Do you recollect seeing, on my ball night, an old gentleman who remained most of the evening by the side of papa?"
"Yes. Well?" answered Rose, impatiently.
"It seems he made overtures then to papa for my hand, though I did not know it, and----"
"It is a sin, an unholy thing, to sacrifice you to an old man!" interrupted Mary Carr, starting up in her sharp disappointment. "Why, his sands of life must be well-nigh run out!"
"A moment, Mary," rejoined Adeline, calmly laying her hand upon Miss Carr's arm: "who is hasty now? That old man's sands are run out. He died soon after he had played his part in that festal night, which he had come down from Paris purposely to join in. He and papa were old and very dear friends; closer friends it would not be possible to conceive, though there was a difference of twenty years in their ages. His nephew inherits his fortune and title, and it is for him they destine me."
"How old is he?" inquired Rose.
"I have not asked," said Adeline. "Mamma says he is good-looking. It appears that this scheme of uniting the families has been a project of years, though they never told me. Had my sister lived, the honour was to have fallen to her."
"I hope you will be happy," observed Miss Carr.
"Thank you, Mary. But you speak with hesitation."