"I would not marry Lady Mary, if all the rest of the female sex were
turned into apes," said Lord L'Estrange, with deliberate fervour.

"Good heavens!" cried the earl, "what extraordinary language is this?
And pray why, sir?"

HARLEY.--"I can't say; there is no why in these cases. But, my dear
father, you are not keeping faith with me."

LORD LANSMERE.--"HOW?"

HARLEY.--"You and my Lady, here, entreat me to marry; I promise to do
my best to obey you, but on one condition, that I choose for myself,
and take my time about it. Agreed on both sides. Whereon, off goes
your Lordship--actually before noon, at an hour when no lady, without
a shudder, could think of cold blonde and damp orange flowers--off goes
your Lordship, I say, and commits poor Lady Mary and your unworthy son
to a mutual admiration,--which neither of us ever felt. Pardon me, my
father, but this is grave. Again let me claim your promise,--full choice
for myself, and no reference to the Wars of the Roses. What War of the
Roses like that between Modesty and Love upon the cheek of the virgin!"

LADY LANSMERE.--"Full choice for yourself, Harley: so be it. But we,
too, named a condition,--did we not, Lansmere?"

THE EARL (puzzled).--"Eh, did we? Certainly we did."

HARLEY.--"What was it?"

LADY LANSMERE.--"The son of Lord Lansmere can only marry the daughter of
a gentleman."

THE EARL.--"Of course, of course."

The blood rushed over Harley's fair face, and then as suddenly left it
pale.

He walked away to the window; his mother followed him, and again laid
her hand on his shoulder.

"You were cruel," said he, gently, and in a whisper, as he winced under
the touch of the hand. Then turning to the earl, who was gazing at him
in blank surprise,--it never occurred to Lord Lansmere that there could
be a doubt of his son's marrying beneath the rank modestly stated by
the countess,--Harley stretched forth his hand, and said, in his
soft winning tone, "You have ever been most gracious to me, and most
forbearing; it is but just that I should sacrifice the habits of an
egotist, to gratify a wish which you so warmly entertain. I agree with
you, too, that our race should not close in me,--Noblesse oblige. But
you know I was ever romantic; and I must love where I marry; or, if not
love, I must feel that my wife is worthy of all the love I could once
have bestowed. Now, as to the vague word 'gentleman' that my mother
employs--word that means so differently on di