On the day before their departure a very curious thing happened.

Sir Lemuel was waiting in his library, when a footman entered and laid a card before him.  It was not a visiting card, but a business card.  And it bore the name of a firm: 

Dazzle and Sparkle, jewellers, Number Blank, Bond street.

“What is the meaning of this?” inquired the banker.

“If you please, sir, the person who brought it directed me to say, that he craves to speak with you on the most important business,” answered the man.

“Important to himself most likely, and not in the least so to me.  Well, show him up,” said Sir Lemuel.

The servant withdrew and, after a few moments, reappeared and announced: 

“Mr. Dazzle, of Dazzle and Sparkle, Bond street.”

A little, round-bodied, bald-headed man entered the library.

Sir Lemuel Levison received him with some surprise, but with much politeness.

“I have come, sir, on a little business,” began the visitor, who forthwith proceeded and explained his business at length.

It seemed that the imbecile Duke of Hereward, being well pleased with his son’s marriage, and imagining himself still to be the master of Lone and of a princely revenue, went to Messrs. Dazzle and Sparkle, and ordered a splendid set of diamonds for his prospective daughter-in-law.

The firm, who, as well as all the world of London, had heard of the forthcoming marriage between the son of the pauper duke and the daughter of the wealthy banker, gravely accepted the order, pondered over it, and finally determined to lay the whole matter before the banker himself.

“You have acted with much discretion, Mr. Dazzle.  Fill the duke’s order, and hold me responsible for the amount.  And say nothing of the affair,” was the banker’s answer to the tradesman, who bowed and left the room.

The next morning Sir Lemuel Levison, his daughter, her chaperon, and their household, went down to Castle Lone.

Active preparations were at once commenced for the wedding, which was to take place at Lone on the Tuesday of the following week.

The first thing that Salome did on reaching the castle was to have the portrait of the Marquis of Arondelle brought down from the tower and mounted in state between the two lofty front windows of her favorite sitting-room.

Among the servants at Lone, none received the bride elect with more effusive love than the old housekeeper, Girzie Ross.

“Eh, me leddy!  Heaven, sent ye to redeem Lone.  My benison on ye, me leddy! and my ban on yon hizzie, wha hae been makin’ sic’ an ado, ever sin the report o’ your betrothal has been noised about!” said the dame.

“But who are you talking about, my dear Mrs. Ross?” inquired Salome.

“Ou just that handsom hizzie, Rosy Cameron, wha will hae it that she, her vera sel’, is troth-plighted to our young laird—­the jaud!” replied the housekeeper.