“Public opinion?  You don’t know England, madam!  What’s the use of my being a peer, if I can’t do what I like, and make public opinion go my way, and not I its?  Though I am no great prince, madam, but only a poor Irish viscount, it’s hard if I can’t marry whom I like—­in reason, that is—­and expect all the world to call on her, and treat her as she deserves.  Why, madam, you will have all London at your feet after a season or two, and all the more if they know your story:  or if you don’t like that, or if fools did talk at first, why we’d go and live quietly at Kilanbaggan, or at Penalva, and you’d have all the tenants looking up to you as a goddess, as I do, madam.—­Oh, madam, I would go anywhere, live anywhere, only to be with you!”

Marie was deeply affected.  Making all allowances for the wilfulness of youth, she could not but see that her origin formed no bar whatever to her marrying a nobleman; and that he honestly believed that it would form none in the opinion of his compeers, if she proved herself worthy of his choice; and, full of new emotions, she burst into tears.

“There, now, you are melting:  I knew you would!  Madam!  Signora?” and Scoutbush advanced to take her hand.

“Never less,” cried she, drawing back.  “Do not;—­you only make me miserable!  I tell you it is impossible.  I cannot tell you all.—­You must not do yourself and yours such an injustice!  Go, I tell you!”

Scoutbush still tried to take her hand.

“Go, I entreat you,” cried she, at her wits’ end, “or I will really ring the bell for Mrs. Mellot!”

“You need not do that, madam,” said he, drawing himself up; “I am not in the habit of being troublesome to ladies, or being turned out of drawing-rooms.  I see how it is—­” and his tone softened; “you despise me, and think me a vain, frivolous puppy.—­Well; I’ll do something yet that you shall not despise!” And he turned to go.

“I do not despise you; I think you a generous, high-hearted gentleman—­nobleman in all senses.”

Scoutbush turned again.

“But, again, impossible!  I shall always respect you; but we must never meet again.”

She held out her hand.  Little Freddy caught and kissed it till he was breathless, and then rushed out, and blundered over Sabina in the next room.

“No hope?”

“None.”  And though he tried to squeeze his eyes together very tight, the great tears would come dropping down.

Sabina took him to a sofa, and sat him down while he made his little moan.

“I told you that she was in love with the American.”

“Then why don’t he come back and marry her!  Hang him, I’ll go after him and make him!” cried Scoutbush, glad of any object on which to vent his wrath.

“You can’t, for nobody knows where he is.  Now do be good and patient; you will forget all this.”

“I shan’t!”

“You will; not at first, but gradually; and marry some one really more fit for you.”