George was expecting to discover some management on the part of his father, but by no means so settled an arrangement, and his anger was in proportion to the deception.

To annoy Isabel any further was out of the question; to betray her, base; and the next morning he sought an audience with the Duke.  To him he mentioned his wish for actual service, but hinted that the maternal fondness of Lady Margaret was averse to his seeking it.  This was true, and George now pressed his uncle to assist him in effecting an exchange.

The boroughs of the Duke of Derwent were represented by loyal members of parliament, his two brothers being contemporary with Mr. Benfield in that honor; and a request from a man who sent six members to the Commons, besides having a seat in the Lords in his own person, must be listened to.

Within the week George ceased to be a captain in the guards, and became lieutenant-colonel of a regiment under orders for America.

Sir Frederick soon became sensible of the error his warmth had led him into, and endeavored, by soothing and indulgence, to gain the ground he had so unguardedly lost.  But terrible was his anger, and bitter his denunciations, when his son acquainted him with his approaching embarkation with his new regiment for America.  They quarrelled; and as the favorite child had never, until now, been thwarted or spoken harshly to, they parted in mutual disgust.  With his mother George was more tender; and as Lady Margaret never thought the match such as the descendant of two lines of dukes was entitled to form, she almost pardoned the offence in the cause.

“What’s this here?” cried Sir Peter Howell, as he ran over a morning paper at the breakfast table:  “Captain Denbigh, late of the guards, has been promoted to the Lieutenant-Colonelcy of the ——­ Foot, and sails to-morrow to join that regiment, now on its way to America.”

“It’s a lie, Bell!—­it’s all a lie! not but what he ought to be there, too, serving his king and country; but he never would serve you so.”

“Me?” said Isabel, with a heart throbbing with the contending feelings of admiration for George’s generosity, and delight at her own deliverance.  “What have I to do with the movements of Mr. Denbigh?”

“What!” cried her father in astonishment; “a’n’t you to be his wife, a’n’t it all agreed upon—­that is, between Sir Frederick and me, which is the same thing, you know—­”

Here he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the general himself, who had just learnt the departure of his son and hastened, with the double purpose of breaking the intelligence to his friend, and of making his own peace.

“See here, Denbigh,” exclaimed the admiral, pointing to the paragraph, “what do you say to that?”

“Too true—­too true, my dear friend,” replied the general shaking his head mournfully.

“Hark ye, Sir Frederick Denbigh,” cried the admiral fiercely; “did you not say that your son George was to marry my daughter?”