Arabella, who perhaps knew a little more than her lover, could not bring herself to believe that the appeal would be successful, but she made it.  It was a very difficult letter to write, as she could not but allude to the rapid transference of her affections.  “I will not conceal from you,” she said, “that I have suffered very much from Lord Rufford’s heartless conduct.  My misery has been aggravated by the feeling that you and my uncle will hardly believe him to be so false, and will attribute part of the blame to me.  I had to undergo an agonizing revulsion of feeling, during which Mr. Green’s behaviour to me was at first so considerate and then so kind that it has gone far to cure the wound from which I have been suffering.  He is so well known in reference to foreign affairs, that I think my uncle cannot but have heard of him; my cousin Mistletoe is certainly acquainted with him; and I think that you cannot but approve of the match.  You know what is the position of my father and my mother, and how little able they are to give us any assistance.  If you would be kind enough to let us be married from Mistletoe, you will confer on both of us a very, very great favour.”  There was more of it, but that was the first of the prayer, and most of the words given above came from the dictation of Mounser himself.  She had pleaded against making the direct request, but he had assured her that in the world, as at present arranged, the best way to get a thing is to ask for it.  “You make yourself at any rate understood,” he said, “and you may be sure that people who receive petitions do not feel the hardihood of them so much as they who make them.”  Arabella, comforting herself by declaring that the Duchess at any rate could not eat her, wrote the letter and sent it.

The Duchess at first was most serious in her intention to refuse.  She was indeed made very angry by the request.  Though it had been agreed at Mistletoe that Lord Rufford had behaved badly, the Duchess was thoroughly well aware that Arabella’s conduct had been abominable.  Lord Rufford probably had made an offer, but it had been extracted from him by the vilest of manoeuvres.  The girl had been personally insolent to herself.  And this rapid change, this third engagement within a few weeks, was disgusting to her as a woman.  But, unluckily for herself, she would not answer the letter till she had consulted her husband.  As it happened the Duke was in town, and while he was there Lord Drummond got hold of him.  Lord Drummond had spoken very highly of Mounser Green, and the Duke, who was never dead to the feeling that as the head of the family he should always do what he could for the junior branches, had almost made a promise.  “I never take such things upon myself,” he said, “but if the Duchess has no objection, we will have them down to Mistletoe.”

“Of course if you wish it,” said the Duchess,—­with more acerbity in her tone than the Duke had often heard there.