"Quite true," responded her son: "but who knows what a day may bring
forth? Two days ago I was willing to marry Lady Louise--to ask her, at
least. Now, not all the wealth of the Indies, not the crown of the
world could tempt me."

"Good heavens!" cried my lady, goaded to the end of her patience; "only
hear him! Do you mean to tell me, you absurd, mad-headed boy, that in
one day you have fallen hopelessly in love with this hare-brained,
masculine Harriet Hunsden?"

"I tell you nothing of the sort, madame; the inference is your own.
But this I will say--I would rather marry Harriet Hunsden than any
other woman under heaven! Let Lady Louise take George Grosvenor. He
is in love with her, which I never was; and he has an earl's coronet in
prospective, which I have not. As for me, I have done with this
subject at once and forever. Even to you, my mother, I can not
delegate my choice of a wife."

"I will never receive Harriet Hunsden!" Lady Kingsland passionately
cried.

"Perhaps you will never have the opportunity. She may prefer to become
mistress of Strathmore Castle. Lord Ernest is her most devoted adorer.
I have not asked her yet. The chances are a thousand to one she will
refuse when I do."

His mother laughed scornfully, but her eyes were ablaze.

"You mean to ask her, then?"