"You were cruel," said he gently and in a whisper, as he winced under the touch of the hand. Then turning to the Earl, who was gazing at him in blank surprise--(it never occurred to Lord Lansmere that there could be a doubt of his son's marrying beneath the rank modestly stated by the Countess)--Harley stretched forth his hand, and said, in his soft winning tone, "you have ever been most gracious to me, and most forbearing; it is but just that I should sacrifice the habits of an egotist, to gratify a wish which you so warmly entertain. I agree with you, too, that our race should not close in me--_Noblesse oblige_. But you know I was ever romantic; and I must love where I marry--or, if not love, I must feel that my wife is worthy of all the love I could once have bestowed. Now, as to the vague word 'gentleman' that my mother employs--word that means so differently on different lips--I confess that I have a prejudice against young ladies brought up in the 'excellent foppery of the world,' as the daughters of gentlemen of our rank mostly are. I crave, therefore, the most liberal interpretation of this word 'gentleman.' And so long as there be nothing mean or sordid in the birth, habits, and education of the father of this bride to be, I trust you will both agree to demand nothing more--neither titles nor pedigree." "Titles, no--assuredly," said Lady Lansmere; "they do not make gentlemen." "Certainly not," said the Earl. "Many of our best families are untitled." "Titles--no," repeated Lady Lansmere; "but ancestors--yes." "Ah, my mother," said Harley with his most sad and quiet smile, "it is fated that we shall never agree. The first of our race is ever the one we are most proud of; and pray, what ancestors had he? Beauty, virtue, modesty, intellect--if these are not nobility enough for a man, he is a slave to the dead." With these words Harley took up his hat and made towards the door. "You said yourself, '_Noblesse oblige_,'" said the Countess, following him to the threshold; "we have nothing more to add." Harley slightly shrugged his shoulders, kissed his mother's hand, whistled to Nero, who started up from a doze by the window, and went his way. "Does he really go abroad next week?" said the Earl. "So he says." "I am afraid there is no chance for Lady Mary," resumed Lord Lansmere, with a slight but melancholy smile. "She has not intellect enough to charm him. She is not worthy of Harley," said the proud mother. "Between you and me," rejoined the Earl, rather timidly, "I don't see what good his intellect does him. He could not be more unsettled and useless if he were the merest dunce in the three kingdoms. And so ambitious as he was when a boy! Catherine, I sometimes fancy that you know what changed him."