, which
I read at Eton; very clever story it is, too. So nothing comes amiss to
me. Violante's escape, which has cost me the count's L10,000, proves to
be worth to me, I dare say, ten times as much. No doubt she'll have a
hundred thousand pounds at the least. And then, if her father have no
other child, after all, or the child he expects die in infancy, why,
once reconciled to his Government and restored to his estates, the law
must take its usual course, and Violante will be the greatest heiress
in Europe. As to the young lady herself, I confess she rather awes me; I
know I shall be henpecked. Well, all respectable husbands are. There is
something scampish and ruffianly in not being henpecked." Here Randal's
smile might have harmonized well with Pluto's "iron tears;" but, iron
as the smile was, the serious young man was ashamed of it. "What am I
about," said he, half aloud, "chuckling to myself and wasting time, when
I ought to be thinking gravely how to explain away my former cavalier
courtship? Such a masterpiece as I thought it then! But who could
foresee the turn things would take? Let me think; let me think. Plague
on it, here she comes."

But Randal had not the fine ear of your more romantic lover; and, to
his great relief, the exile entered the room unaccompanied by Violante.
Riccabocca looked somewhat embarrassed.

"My dear Leslie, you must excuse my daughter to-day; she is still
suffering from the agitation she has gone through, and cannot see you."

The lover tried not to look too delighted.

"Cruel!" said he; "yet I would not for worlds force myself on her
presence. I hope, Duke, that she will not find it too difficult to obey
the commands which dispose of her hand, and intrust her happiness to my
grateful charge."

"To be plain with you, Randal, she does at present seem to find it more
difficult than I foresaw. She even talks of--"

"Another attachment--Oh, heavens!"

"Attachment, pazzie! Whom has she seen? No, a convent! But leave it to
me. In a calmer hour she will comprehend that a child must know no lot
more enviable and holy than that of redeeming a father's honour. And
now, if you are returning to London, may I ask you to convey to young
Mr. Hazeldean my assurances of undying gratitude for his share in my
daughter's delivery from that poor baffled swindler."

It is noticeable that, now Peschiera was no longer an object of dread to
the nervous father, he became but an object of pity to the phi