She went from the room, and as she walked about the kitchen and the cellar, half forgetting what she came for, she could see nothing clearly for her happy tears.
CHAPTER IV.
[THE IMPENDING CORONET.]
The visitor drank a glass of the beer at a draught, broke and eat a biscuit with great deliberateness, and then bending forward solemnly over May, who sat on a low chair at his side, said:
"I have just been paying a visit to my grandmother at Wyechester, and a very stately and formal reception it was. How do you feel, Duchess?"
"Oh no, no, no! Don't say that, Charlie! For mercy's sake don't say that!" she cried piteously, covering her face with her hands, and dropping her head forward.
"What on earth is the matter, May?" he asked tenderly. He placed his hand on the rich brown hair of the bent head.
"I am terrified! Oh, I am terrified at that--at the thought that you are now--that you have become so rich; and still more, that other awful, awful thing!" she cried.
"What! The title? Why many women would give their right hands for it," he said, in a tone half soothing, half jocose.
"I hate it! I hate it!" she sobbed passionately. "I'd rather I was dead! I would indeed. Oh, oh, oh!" She sobbed and swayed herself to and fro.