Mr. Lobyer, for once in his life, was thoroughly astounded. Here was "a painter-fellow, who would sell you a picture, by Ged, Sir, and thank you humbly for your patronage, ridin' the high horse and givin' himself the airs of a dook!" This was what the great Lobyer said afterwards to his chief toady and confidant; but he was completely subdued at the time, and was fain to sue most humbly for permission to make Florence Crawford his wife. "I do not see very well how I can withhold my consent," returned the painter, with a sigh, when he responded to Mr. Lobyer's very meekly-worded appeal. "You have already proposed to my daughter, and she has accepted your proposal--subject to my approval, she tells me very dutifully. I think it is rather too late for me to interfere, Mr. Lobyer, especially as there seems no particular reason why I should interfere. If my daughter loves you, and if you love her as truly and purely as a man ought to love the woman he marries, I cannot say no. All I ask is that you will not be in a hurry, that you will wait--a year at the least. I want to know you better before I trust my daughter's happiness to your keeping." But Mr. Lobyer protested that a year under such circumstances would be an eternity, or something to that effect; and after considerable supplication on the part of Miss Crawford's lover, who talked of himself in a dejected way,--as "the most devoted fellow that ever was, you know;" and as "a fellow who wanted to settle down in his own home, and all that sort of thing, you know,"--the painter consented that the year of probation should be reduced by one-half, and that at the end of six months Mr. Lobyer might claim his bride, always provided that his future father-in-law had reason to think well of him in the mean time. After this the young man departed triumphant, but with a certain air of sulky discomfiture about him in the midst of his triumph. "If a fellow were a pauper there couldn't be more row about the business," he muttered, as he stepped into that unapproachable phaeton which had been such a success on the West Cliff. "I never knew before to-day that fellows with half-a-million of money were so plentiful that people, whose daughters they want to marry, need turn up their noses at 'em." Mr. Crawford went back to his painting-room, after the interview with his future son-in-law, very grave of aspect. He went to his painting-room for comfort as a devotee might go into a church. His largest easel occupied the centre of the room, with a great blank canvas upon it, while the Countess of Shrewsbury was turned ignominiously to the wall.