The Major's eyes, that could look pleasant on occasion, glinted at his astonishment. "Those settlements are being replaced by heavier ones," he said. "Blanche does not marry Captain Cross. It's off. A more eligible offer has been made her, and Cross is dismissed." Mr. Ravensworth doubted whether he heard aright. Major Carlen resumed. "And she was making herself miserable over it. She cannot endure Cross." "What a disappointment for Cross! What a mortification! Will he accept his dismissal?" "He will be obliged to accept it," returned the Major, pulling up his shirt-collar, which was always high enough for two. "He has no other choice left to him. A man does not die of love nowadays; or rush into an action for breach of promise, and become a laughing-stock at his club. Blanche marries Lord Level." "Lord Level!" Mr. Ravensworth repeated in a curious accent. "You look as though you doubted the information." "I do not relish it, for your daughter's sake," replied Mr. Ravensworth. "She never can--can--like Lord Level." "What's the matter with Lord Level? He may be approaching forty, but----" Mr. Ravensworth laughed. "Not just yet, Major Carlen." "Well, say he's thirty-four; thirty-three, if you like. Blanche, at twenty, needs guiding. And if he is not as rich as some peers, he is ten times richer than Cross. He met Blanche out, and came dangling here after her. I did not give a thought to it, for I did not look upon Level as a marrying man: he has been somewhat talked of in another line----" "Yes," emphatically interrupted Mr. Ravensworth. "Well?" "Well!" irritably returned the Major: "then there's so much the more credit due to him for settling down. When he found that Cross was really expecting to have Blanche, and that he might lose her altogether, he spoke up, and said he should like her himself." "Does Blanche approve of the exchange?" "She was rather inclined to kick at it," returned the Major, in his respectable phraseology, "and we had a few tears.--But if you ask questions in that sarcastic tone, sir, you don't deserve to be answered. Not that Blanche wanted to keep Cross; she acknowledged that she was only too thankful to be rid of him; but, about behaving dishonourably, as she called it. 'My dear,' said I, 'there's your absurd rusticity coming in again. You don't know the world. Such things are done in high life every day.' She believed me, and was reconciled. You look black as a thunder-cloud, Ravensworth. What right have you to do so, pray?" "None in the world. I beg pardon. I was thinking of Blanche's happiness." "You had better think of her good," retorted the Major. "She likes Level. I don't say she is yet in love with him: but she did not like Cross. Level is an attractive man, remember." "Has been rather too much so," cynically retorted Mr. Ravensworth. "Here she comes. I am going out; so you may offer your congratulations at leisure."