“And what did you say?”

“Why, the truth is, I conducted the affair altogether on a new principle.  I maintained that love should not be a necessary element in marriage; vindicated the rights of honest indifference, and said that it was against my system to marry any woman who was attached to me.”

“Why, I remember preaching some such doctrine, in a bantering way, to her myself.”

“Guided by this theory, I met her at every turn; but, nevertheless, there was a good deal of animated expostulation, tears, solicitations, and all that.”

“I fear you have mismanaged the matter some way; if you have followed my advice, and done it with an appearance of common sense, so much the better.  This would have required much tact, for Lucy is a girl very difficult to be imposed upon by appearances.  I am the only person who can do so, but! that is because I approach her aided by my knowledge of her filial affection.  As it is, however, these things are quite common.  My own wife felt much the same way with myself, and yet we lived as happily as most people.  Every young baggage must have her scenes and her sacrifices.  Ah! what a knack they have got at magnifying everything!  How do you do, my Lady Dunroe? half a dozen times repeated, however, will awaken her vanity, and banish all this girlish rodomontade.”

“‘Room for the Countess of Cullamore,’ will soon follow,” replied his lordship, laughing, “and that will be still better.  The old peer, as Norton and I call him, is near the end of his journey, and will make his parting bow to us some of these days.”

“Did she actually consent, though?” asked the father, somewhat doubtfully.

“Positively, Sir Thomas; make your mind easy upon that point.  To be sure, there were protestations and entreaties, and God knows what; but still the consent was given.”

“Exactly, exactly,” replied her father; “I knew it would be so.  Well, now, let us not lose much time about it.  I told those lawyers to wait a little for further instructions, because I was anxious to hear how this interview would end, feeling some apprehension that she might relapse into obstinacy; but now that she has consented, we shall go on.  They may meet to-morrow, and get the necessary writings drawn up; and then for the wedding.”

“Will not my father’s illness stand a little in the way?” asked Dunroe.

“Not a bit; why should it?  But he really is not ill, only getting feeble and obstinate.  The man is in his dotage.  I saw him yesterday, and he refused, most perversely, to sanction the marriage until some facts shall come to his knowledge, of which he is not quite certain at present.  I told him the young people would not wait; and he replied, that if I give you my daughter now, I shall do so at my peril; and that I may consider myself forewarned.  I know he is thinking of your peccadilloes, my lord, for he nearly told me as much before.  I think, indeed, he is certainly doting, otherwise there is no understanding him.”