The scenes that followed were at times not only so exciting, but so tranquil, that we shrink from attempting to depict them. If there had been anything wanted to confirm the determination of the Duke to hold to the position he had taken up, it would have been the arrival of the Duchess, and the prodigious step he took in refusing her admittance to her daughter. After that there was nothing too much for him. He had burnt his ships. When Lord and Lady Germaine arrived next morning to bring away the bride, with some trembling on the part of the lady, but a contemptuous certainty on that of the gentleman, that “the old duffer,” though he had let his temper out, was not such a fool as all that--they were refused admittance peremptorily. After they had parleyed for some time with the man at the door,--a personage whom the Duke, roused into energy by the position in which he found himself, had engaged on the previous day, and who was invulnerable to all assaults and persuasions,--the Duchess herself came to them, extremely pale, and with difficulty preserving her composure. She had remained all night notwithstanding the misery of the circumstances altogether, and though she did not admit it in words, her quick-witted visitors easily perceived that she herself had not been permitted to see her daughter. “You will think it is medieval,” she said with a faint smile. “The Duke is very determined when he thinks it worth while.” “I suppose,” said Lady Germaine, touched by the aspect of the suffering woman, “that one does not have the blood of Merlin in one’s veins for nothing.” “Merlin,” said Lord Germaine, who was very slangy, “was the old swell who was seducted by Miss Vivien. I don’t think it would have been hard work to get over him.” The Duchess stood in the doorway pale, supporting with difficulty any levity on the subject, yet ready to put as brave a face upon it as possible. “Give Reginald my love, and tell him it is impossible this can last for ever,” she said. “I am sorry for him to the bottom of my heart, and sorry for my child, but at present I cannot help even her.” Lady Germaine stepped within the guarded door to take the Duchess’s hand and kiss her. “And we are so sorry for you, so indignant----” “Hush!” the Duchess said. “It is my fault; I should have had the courage of my convictions. I should have gone with my child myself; the error was mine.” Lady Germaine was half disposed to reply, “Oh, if you think we neglected any precaution----” But she had not the heart to be offended. The pair drove away after a while considerably discomfited. “I did not think the old duffer had so much spirit,” Lord Germaine said with secret admiration. “I say, Nell, if you tried to marry Dolly against my will, I wonder if I should be up to that?” “If there was any chance of it I should lock you up first,” said his dutiful wife.