"If not a _legal_ one, then none which concerns you. Be content, Mr. Godfrey, daughter is indisputably a duchess." "I am not content, my lord duke; I must see this other claimant to the ducal coronet," said Mr. Godfrey, rising. "By heaven, you shall not!" answered the duke, rising as suddenly; "you shall not--indeed you shall not. No, my poor Ellen, no: injured you have been, but at least I will save you from insult." "Methinks your grace's words are strange ones to the father of your ride," said Mr. Godfrey. "Is the peace of your mistress to be preferred to that of your wife?" "Let us understand each other, Mr. Godfrey," said the duke; "and to do that, I must caution you not to say one word in disrespect of the person you falsely term my mistress. Listen: Fifteen years ago I met a being, lovely, tender, innocent; before one personating a Romish priest I called her wife; she knew not, until now, the title was not legal; for fifteen years I have, as a simple gentleman, sought her society when weary of ambition and of the selfishness of the world; for fifteen years have I, at such intervals as I could steal away from grandeur and false honors, found repose and happiness in the society of that gentle, that unworldly being. Children have been born to me and died, all save one, a noble boy--one whom I would gladly train to deeds of glory, were it that--O Ellen, Ellen!" "And with such feelings as these, my lord, you dared to lead my daughter to the altar?" indignantly demanded Mr. Godfrey. "Yes, and why not?" replied the duke. "Your daughter suffered no injury. You sought for her not _love_, but a coronet, and that she has now. Let her enjoy it. I acted not the hypocrite. I promised what I gave--power, rank, grandeur, and respect; these she has: what cause is there for complaint?" "But why, if a peerless beauty were already yours, why seek another bride, my lord? Why not have made the lady of your love your duchess?" "Because--because--I knew not her value at first. At first it was her beauty that attracted me; then her virtue kept me true to her, and I loved her unworldliness, her want of ambition. To have made her a duchess would have spoiled my dream of being loved for myself alone. Besides, Ellen is a Catholic, a sincere one, and never would she consent that a child of hers should be brought up in the paganism of these times." "But why, I must yet inquire, why, with these feelings, did your grace marry at all?" "Why? did I not want a duchess in my halls? a pagan heir to my Pantheon, sir? To whom were these gorgeous collections of heathen idols, these entailed estates, these titles, honors, to descend? Ellen's son could not inherit all, even were he legitimate. His Catholic feeling would turn aside in disgust from much, and English law would exclude him from office or dignity in the nation. Had I lived anywhere but in England, perchance my child had risen to compete with the highest."