Lord C--- was as tender-hearted a lout as ever lived. In a moment he was on his knees with his arm round the girl's waist, pouring out such halting words of love and devotion as came to his unready brain, cursing his fate, his earldom, and his mother, and assuring Mary that his only chance of happiness lay in his making her his countess. Had Mary liked to say the word at that moment, he would have caught her to his arms, and defied the whole world--for the time being. But Mary was a very practical young woman, and there are difficulties in the way of handling a lover, who, however ready he may be to do your bidding so long as your eyes are upon him, is liable to be turned from his purpose so soon as another influence is substituted for your own. His lordship suggested an immediate secret marriage. But you cannot run out into the street, knock up a clergyman, and get married on the spot, and Mary knew that the moment she was gone his lordship's will would revert to his mother's keeping. Then his lordship suggested flight, but flight requires money, and the countess knew enough to keep his lordship's purse in her own hands. Despair seized upon his lordship. "It's no use," he cried, "it will end in my marrying her." "Who's she?" exclaimed Mary somewhat quickly. His lordship explained the position. The family estates were heavily encumbered. It was deemed advisable that his lordship should marry Money, and Money, in the person of the only daughter of rich and ambitious parvenus, had offered itself--or, to speak more correctly, had been offered. "What's she like?" asked Mary. "Oh, she's nice enough," was the reply, "only I don't care for her and she doesn't care for me. It won't be much fun for either of us," and his lordship laughed dismally. "How do you know she doesn't care for you?" asked Mary. A woman may be critical of her lover's shortcomings, but at the very least he is good enough for every other woman. "Well, she happens to care for somebody else," answered his lordship, "she told me so herself." That would account for it. "And is she willing to marry you?" inquired Mary. His lordship shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, well, you know, her people want it," he replied. In spite of her trouble, the girl could not help a laugh. These young swells seemed to have but small wills of their own. Her ladyship, on the other side of the door, grew nervous. It was the only sound she had been able to hear. "It's deuced awkward," explained his lordship, "when you're--well, when you are anybody, you know. You can't do as you like. Things are expected of you, and there's such a lot to be considered." Mary rose and clasped her pretty dimpled hands, from which she had drawn her gloves, behind his neck. "You do love me, Jack?" she said, looking up into his face. For answer the lad hugged her to him very tightly, and there were tears in his eyes.