"Mr. Aarons, you must be mistaken," she persisted stubbornly. "If his fortunes are so low, why does he seek to join them to those of a portionless widow? Sure, there are heiresses a-plenty who would gladly buy his title with their dowries!" "Oh! your ladyship has but to look in your mirror to answer that question," cried the usurer, with a low bow and a look of open admiration. "There are also men of wealth and substance who would gladly pay the debts of Lady Prudence Brooke, and settle such a fortune upon her as would keep her busy in the spending." "No doubt, no doubt," said Lady Prudence hastily, "but I am betrothed to Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert, and these benevolent persons do not greatly interest me. Let us quit the subject of the fortunes Sir Geoffrey and I are throwing away, and return to business." "Yet believe me, Lady Prudence," he insisted, "you will never wed Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert." She rose with great haughtiness. "I decline to dispute the subject with you, Mr. Aarons—" she began. "You will not marry Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert," he repeated. "If you do not refuse the match, he will find some way to release himself; ’tis his misfortune more than his fault. Mark me, Lady Prudence, and do not let him place you in a false position. You want to be a rich woman as well as a great lady. You can marry a man who will give you the finest house in town, the most splendid establishment, the choice of a dozen country seats, and more money to spend than you have ever dreamed of, and who asks nothing in return but to see you queen it at his expense." She smiled a little, and met his glance with a most deceptive air of innocent curiosity. "And who is the _gentleman_, Mr. Aarons?" she inquired, in her sweetest tone, with but the hint of an emphasis. "Can you not guess?" he replied more boldly. "Faith, I came hither seeking a money-broker, and was not prepared to find a marriage-broker instead!" she said, shrugging her pretty shoulders. "Do not keep me in suspense, good Aarons; I am dying to know the name of the admirable creature who desires to rescue me from poverty—and Sir Geoffrey—and confer so many benefits upon my unworthiness." He placed his hand upon his breast, and bowed deeply. "You see him here, fair Lady Prudence," he said. "The humblest of slaves, the most ardent of admirers and, if you will, the most devoted and indulgent of husbands." She burst into a peal of laughter, but the faint note of bitterness that permeated the charming music was not lost upon the money-lender’s sharp ear. "Truly, Mr. Aarons, your jest is subtle and well-conceived, and a fitting rebuke to my silly vanity," she began. But he interrupted her, "In truth, Madam, ’tis no jest, but a serious offer. I have always admired your ladyship, and a year ago, endeavored to give fitting expression—"