But the post did not go out during the night, and the note lay hidden in the Duke’s private drawer till the morning.  There was still that ‘locus poenitentiae’ which should be accorded to all letters written in anger.  During the day he thought over it all constantly, not in any spirit of yielding, not descending a single step from that attitude of conviction which made him feel that it might be his duty absolutely to sacrifice his daughter,—­but asking himself whether it might not be better to explain the whole matter at length to the young man.  He thought that he could put the matter strongly.  It was not by his own doing that he belonged to an aristocracy which, if all exclusiveness were banished from it, must cease to exist.  But being what he was, having been born to such privileges and such limitations, was he not bound in duty to maintain a certain exclusiveness?  He would appeal to the young man himself to say whether marriage ought to be free between all classes of the community.  And if not between all, who was to maintain the limits but they to whom authority in such matters is given?  So much in regard to rank!  And then he would ask this young man whether he thought it fitting that a young man whose duty according to all known principles it must be to earn bread, should avoid that manifest duty by taking a wife who could maintain him.  As he roamed about his park alone he felt that he could write such a letter as would make an impression even upon a lover.  But when he had come back to his study, other reflections came to his aid.  Though he might write the most appropriate letter in the world, would there not certainly be a reply?  As to conviction, had he ever known an instance of a man who had been convinced by an adversary?  Of course there would be a reply,—­and replies.  And to such a correspondence there would no visible end.  Words when once written, remain, or may remain, in testimony for ever.  So at last when the moment came he sent off those three lines, with his uncourteous compliments and his demand that there should be no further correspondence.

At dinner he endeavoured to make up for his harshness by increased tenderness to his daughter, who was altogether ignorant of the correspondence.  ‘Have you written your letters, dear?’ She said she had written them.

‘I hope the people will come.’

‘If it will make you comfortable, papa!’

’It is for your sake I wish them to be here.  I think that Lady Mabel and Miss Boncassen are just such girls as you would like.’

‘I do like them; only—­’

‘Only what?’

‘Miss Boncassen is an American.’

’Is that an objection?  According to my ideas it is desirable to become acquainted with persons of various nations.  I have heard, no doubt, many stories of the awkward manners displayed by American ladies.  If you look for them you may probably find American women who are not polished.  I do not think I shall calumniate my own country if I say the same of English women.  It should be our object to select for our own acquaintance the best we can find of all countries.  It seems to me that Miss Boncassen is a young lady with whom any other young lady might be glad to form an acquaintance.’