Stuart Denville, MC of Saltinville, stood there out on the hazy Downs, trembling, obsequious, tossed by his emotions. It was so dazzling, this suggestion of an offer for his child's hand. May had married a rich man; but for Claire, his beautiful child, to become the wife of a wealthy nobleman--to become Countess of Carboro'! It was such an exaltation--greater than his highest dreams. But before him stood that withered old man, scanning him with his sharp eyes, and ready to probe him with his bitterly venomed tongue. He, to be the husband of his beautiful child. It was sacrilege. "We agreed to be quite frank," said Lord Carboro' sharply. Denville drew a long breath, and biting his lip, called up before his mental vision the sweet soft face of his child wearing a new horror as he bore her this news, and trampling down, as it were, the great temptation, he cast off his mincing ways, his servile politeness, and in a quick, firm voice exclaimed: "Will your lordship commence and set me the example? What do you mean?" "Come, I like that, Denville. Spoken like a man. Well, I'll be frank. I have long been thinking of your child, and watching her, and as I have watched her I have loved--no, that is absurd at my age--my liking for her has grown. I have put it off and it has come back, and I have put it off again as I have heard some bit of scandal, but she has always come out of it so spotless and well that I have grown more--well, infatuated." He paused for a minute, and then went on speaking earnestly. "Then came that horror at your house, just as I had made up my mind to speak to you; and I said no: it was impossible; but the feeling grew. Yes, man, even at my age." Denville bowed, and drew himself up very stiffly. "I waited, Denville, and was about to speak to you when this affair with Rockley and the duel took place, and I stopped at home and swore horribly; but the feeling still grew and grew, and as that has all passed away, I now ask you if you will give me your consent. I ask you as a gentleman, Denville, to address her and ask her if she will be my wife." Denville did not answer, for a tremendous struggle was going on within his breast, and it was hard to say which side would win. "Hah!" said Lord Carboro', speaking quickly; "you say I am very old. Granted. That I ought to think of my coffin instead of a wife. Granted. That I am an old fool; but there I join issue." Denville had raised his hands deprecatingly. "I am not an old fool, Denville." "No, my lord, you are not." "I'll tell you why. I have said to myself that if this beautiful young creature swore to be my faithful wife I could trust her. She would be a sweet companion for my declining years; and, God bless her! if she consented, I would repay her for the sacrifice. In a few years I should leave her young, rich, titled, and free to choose some more suitable companion than the old man she had tended to his grave."