“Cora, my dear, I was as much surprised as Fabian.  But, oh!  I was happy for your sake.  The duke is a good fellow, I am sure, and awfully in love with you.  Ah! didn’t he offer a just and heartfelt tribute to the father!  I declare, Cora, I never fully appreciated my father, or realized what a great benefactor he was to the human race, until the duke made that little speech in proposing his health.  How appreciative the duke is!  Really, Cora, dear, you are a very happy woman, and I congratulate you with all my heart and soul; indeed, I do,” said Mr. Clarence, wringing the young lady’s hand, and turning away to hide the tears that filled his eyes.

“Thank you, Uncle Clarence.  Thank you, Uncle Fabian.  I am grateful for your congratulations, on account of your good intentions; but—­congratulations are quite uncalled for on this occasion.”

“Why—­what on earth do you mean, Cora?” inquired Mr. Fabian, while Mr. Clarence looked full of uneasiness.

“I mean that I have never been engaged to the Duke of Cumbervale, and never mean to marry him.  Mr. Rockharrt’s announcement was unauthorized and unfounded.  It was just an act of his despotic will, to oblige me to contract a marriage which he favors.”

The two men looked on the speaker in mute amazement.

“We will not talk more of this to-night.  But the matter must be set right to-morrow,” said Cora.

A little later Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt took leave and departed for their home.

CHAPTER XXVII.

UNREQUITED LOVE.

The Duke of Cumbervale, weary of a sleepless pillow, arose early and rang his bell, startling his gentlemanly valet from his morning slumbers; dressed himself with monsieur’s assistance, and went down stairs with the intention of taking a walk before the family should be up.

But his intention was forestalled by the appearance of Mr. Rockharrt coming out of his chamber on the opposite side of the hall.

The Iron King looked up in some surprise at the apparition of his guest at so early an hour; but quickly composed himself as he gave him the matutinal salutation: 

“Ah, good morning, duke.  An early riser, like myself, eh?  Come down into the library with me, and let us look over the morning papers.”

A cheerful coal fire was burning in the grate, a very acceptable comfort on this chill November morning.

This was one of the happy days when there is “nothing in the papers”—­that is to say, nothing interesting, absorbing, soul harrowing, in the form of financial ruin, highway robbery, murder, arson, fire, or flood.  Everything in the world at the present brief hour seemed going on well, consequently the papers were very dull, flat, stale and unprofitable, and were soon laid aside by the host and his guest, and they fell into conversation.

“You took a long walk yesterday, I hear—­went across in the ferry boat, and strolled up to the foot of Scythia’s Roost.”