“The Duke of L-----!” repeated Lady Juliana, with a scream of horror and
surprise; “surely, papa, you cannot be serious?  Why, he’s red-haired and
squints, and he’s as old as you.”

“If he were as old as the devil, and as ugly too,” interrupted the enraged Earl, “he should be your husband:  and may I perish if you shall have any other!”

The youthful beauty burst into tears, while her father traversed the apartment with an inflamed and wrathful visage.

“If it had been anybody but that odious Duke,” sobbed the lovely Juliana.

“If it had been anybody but that odious Duke!” repeated the Earl, mimicking her, “they should not have had you.  It has been my sole study, ever since I saw your brother settled, to bring about this alliance; and, when this is accomplished, my utmost ambition will be satisfied.  So no more whining—­the affair is settled; and all that remains for you to do is to study to make yourself agreeable to his Grace, and to sign the settlements.  No such mighty sacrifice, me thinks, when repaid with a ducal coronet, the most splendid jewels, the finest equipages, and the largest jointure of any woman in England.”

Lady Juliana raised her head, and wiped her eyes.  Lord Courtland perceived the effect his eloquence had produced upon the childish fancy of his daughter, and continued to expatiate upon the splendid joys that awaited her in a union with a nobleman of the Duke’s rank and fortune; till at length, dazzled, if not convinced, she declared herself “satisfied that it was her duty to marry whoever papa pleased; but—­” and a sigh escaped her as she contrasted her noble suitor with her handsome lover:  “but if I should marry him, papa, I am sure I shall never be able to love him.”

The Earl smiled at her childish simplicity as he assured her that was not at all necessary; that love was now entirely confined to the canaille; that it was very well for ploughmen and dairymaids to marry for love; but for a young woman of rank to think of such a thing was plebeian in the extreme!

Lady Juliana did not entirely subscribe to the arguments of her father; but the gay and glorious vision that floated in her brain stifled for a while the pleadings of her heart; and with a sparkling eye and an elastic step she hastened to prepare for the reception of the Duke.

For a few weeks the delusion lasted.  Lady Juliana was flattered with the homage she received as a future Duchess; she was delighted with the eclat that attended her, and charmed with the daily presents showered upon her by her noble suitor.

“Well, really, Favolle,” said she to her maid, one day, as she clasped on her beautiful arm a resplendent bracelet, “it must be owned the Duke has a most exquisite taste in trinkets; don’t you think so?  And, do you know, I don’t think him so very—­very ugly.  When we are married I mean to make him get a Brutus, cork his eyebrows, and have a set of teeth.”  But just then the smiling eyes, curling hair, and finely formed person of a certain captivating Scotsman rose to view in her mind’s eye; and, with a peevish “pshaw!” she threw the bauble aside.