while they sympathized with his loss, yet agreed among themselves, that,
despite Bellew's millions, Sylvia had done vastly well for herself,
seeing that a duke is always a duke,--especially in America.

There were, also, divers ladies in New York, Newport, and elsewhere, and
celebrated for their palatial homes, their jewels, and their daughters,
who were anxious to know how Bellew would comport himself under his
disappointment. Some leaned to the idea that he would immediately blow
his brains out; others opined that he would promptly set off on another
of his exploring expeditions, and get himself torn to pieces by lions
and tigers, or devoured by alligators; while others again feared greatly
that, in a fit of pique, he would marry some "young person" unknown, and
therefore, of course, utterly unworthy.

How far these worthy ladies were right, or wrong in their surmises, they
who take the trouble to turn the following pages, shall find out.



CHAPTER II

_How George Bellew sought counsel of his Valet_

The first intimation Bellew received of the futility of his hopes was
the following letter which he received one morning as he sat at
breakfast in his chambers in St. James Street, W.

MY DEAR GEORGE--I am writing to tell you that I like you so much that I
am quite sure I could never marry you, it would be too ridiculous.
Liking, you see George, is not love, is it? Though, personally, I think