A good many interesting tales of his cousin’s bride had, indeed, reached the melancholy Duke.  Lady Henry had done all that she conceived it her duty to do, filling many pages of note-paper with what the Duke regarded as most unnecessary information.

At any rate, he had brushed it all aside with the impatience of one for whom nothing on earth had now any savor or value beyond one or two indispensable affections.  “What’s good enough for Jacob is good for me,” he wrote to Lady Henry, “and if I may offer you some advice, it is that you should not quarrel with Jacob about a matter so vital as his marriage.  Into the rights and wrongs of the story you tell me, I really cannot enter; but rather than break with Jacob I would welcome anybody he chose to present to me.  And in this case I understand the lady is very clever, distinguished, and of good blood on both sides.  Have you had no trouble in your life, my dear Flora, that you can make quarrels with a light heart?  If so, I envy you; but I have neither the energy nor the good spirits wherewith to imitate you.”

Julie, of course, knew nothing of this correspondence, though from the Duke’s letters to Jacob she divined that something of the kind had taken place.  But it was made quite plain to her that she was to be spared all the friction and all the difficulty which may often attend the entrance of a person like herself within the circle of a rich and important family like the Delafields.  With Lady Henry, indeed, the fight had still to be fought.  But Jacob’s mother, influenced on one side by her son and on the other by the head of the family, accepted her daughter-in-law with the facile kindliness and good temper that were natural to her; while his sister, the fair-haired and admirable Susan, owed her brother too much and loved him too well to be other than friendly to his wife.

No; on the worldly side all was smooth.  The marriage had been carried through with ease and quietness The Duke, in spite of Jacob’s remonstrances, had largely increased his cousin’s salary, and Julie was already enjoying the income left her by Lord Lackington.  She had only to reappear in London as Jacob’s wife to resume far more than her old social ascendency.  The winning cards had all passed into her hands, and if now there was to be a struggle with Lady Henry, Lady Henry would be worsted.

All this was or should have been agreeable to the sensitive nerves of a woman who knew the worth of social advantages.  It had no effect, however, on the mortal depression which was constantly Julie’s portion during the early weeks of her marriage.