Such a course, under such circumstances, even toward an utter stranger, would have been unprecedented in her neighborhood, which had always been noted for its hospitality.

Yet still she was afraid to offer him any polite attention, lest she should in so doing give him encouragement to urge his suit, that she dreaded to hear, and was determined to reject.

It was not until the visitor had taken his hat in his left hand, and held out the right to bid her good morning, that she forced herself to do her hostess’ duty, and say: 

“This is a very dull house, duke, but if you can endure its dullness, I beg you will stay to lunch with me.”

A smile suddenly lighted up the visitor’s cold blue eyes.

“‘Dull,’ madam?  No house can be dull—­even though darkened by a recent bereavement—­which is blessed by your presence.  I thank you.  I shall stay with much pleasure.”

And now I have done it! thought Cora, with vexation.

At length the clock struck two, the luncheon bell rang, and Cora arose with a smile of invitation.  The duke gave her his arm, they went into the dining room.  The gray-haired butler was in waiting.  They took their places at the table.  Old John had just set a plate of lobster salad before the guest when the sound of carriage wheels was heard approaching the house.  In a few minutes more there came heavy steps along the hall, the door opened, and old Aaron Rockharrt entered the room.  Cora and her visitor both arose.

“Ah, duke! how do you do?  I got your telegram on reaching North End; went to the hotel to meet you, and found that you had started for Rockhold.  Had your dispatch arrived an hour earlier I should have gone in my carriage to meet you,” said the Iron King with pompous politeness.

Now it seemed in order for the visitor to offer some condolence to this bereaved husband.  But how could he, where the widower himself so decidedly ignored the subject of his own sorrow?  To have said one word about his recent loss would have been, in the world’s opinion and vocabulary, “bad form.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Rockharrt; and I thank you.  I came on quite comfortably in the hotel hack, which waits to take me back,” was all that he said.

“No, sir! that hack does not wait to take you back.  I have sent it away.  Moreover, I settled your bill at the hotel, gave up your rooms, saw your valet, and ordered your luggage to be brought here.  It will arrive in an hour,” said the Iron King, as he threw himself into the great leathern chair that the old butler pushed to the table for his master’s accommodation.

The duke looked at the old man in a state of stupefaction.  How on earth should he deal with this purse-proud egotist, who took the liberty of paying his hotel bill, giving up his apartments and ordering his servants? and doing all this without the faintest idea that he was committing an unpardonable impertinence.