LORD LANSMERE.--"HOW?"

HARLEY.--"You and my Lady, here, entreat me to marry; I promise to do my
best to obey you, but on one condition, that I choose for myself, and
take my time about it. Agreed on both sides. Whereon, off goes your
Lordship--actually before noon, at an hour when no lady, without a
shudder, could think of cold blonde and damp orange flowers--off goes
your Lordship, I say, and commits poor Lady Mary and your unworthy son to
a mutual admiration,--which neither of us ever felt. Pardon me, my
father, but this is grave. Again let me claim your promise,--full choice
for myself, and no reference to the Wars of the Roses. What War of the
Roses like that between Modesty and Love upon the cheek of the virgin!"

LADY LANSMERE.--"Full choice for yourself, Harley: so be it. But we,
too, named a condition,--did we not, Lansmere?"

THE EARL (puzzled).--"Eh, did we? Certainly we did."

HARLEY.--"What was it?"

LADY LANSMERE.--"The son of Lord Lansmere can only marry the daughter of
a gentleman."

THE EARL.---"Of course, of course."

The blood rushed over Harley's fair face, and then as suddenly left it
pale.

He walked away to the window; his mother followed him, and again laid her