Rushford held out his hand with a quick gesture. "I beg your pardon," he said, simply. "I see that I was not mistaken in my first estimate of you, after all--I am very glad." "I was coming to you this afternoon," added the Englishman, taking the outstretched hand, eagerly, "to tell you that I am merely Viscount Cranford and not Lord Vernon--a very insignificant fellow, not a great one--and to ask for your daughter, Miss Nell. I ask you now. Though first let me make it clear to you that the title is of little importance." "The only title we Americans care about," responded Rushford, slowly, "is that of gentleman. My daughter's husband need have no other--but he must have that. We don't give our daughters away, sir, as I've already explained to--" Susie pinched his arm viciously in an agony of alarm. Then she pulled his head down to her, her eyes shining, and whispered a quick sentence in his ear. "Yes, that's it!" he nodded. "Nell is waiting for us--our apartment is just up the stair. You'd better go tell her the story, young man! Knock at the door, make her admit you, make her listen! Oh, a lover should know how--yes, I see you do! And God bless you!" he added, as Cranford wrung his hand, flung open the door, and disappeared along the hall. "And we must go too, dad," said Sue, in a low voice. "At once. Come." "Yes," assented her father. "Yes--yet wait a minute, Susie," and he stopped, his eyes on Markeld. "I'd hate to think I'd done any other man the same injustice I did that young Englishman. Perhaps the Prince of Markeld has also an explanation. If so, I shall be very glad to hear it." Susie's hand trembled on her father's arm, and she caught her breath with a little gasp; but she kept her eyes steadily on the floor--she had pride enough for that. Oh, she rejoiced that she had pride enough for that! The Prince gazed at her a moment, then, with face ashy gray, he shook his head. "I have none," he said, in a low voice, and Susie shivered at the words. "But I have!" cried some one from the door; and, turning, they beheld there on the threshold a handsome old lady, with hair snowy white, figure erect, face imperious--the Dowager Duchess of Markheim. Behind her, in the twilight of the hall, could be dimly seen the mustachios of Monsieur Tellier, with Glück's face glaring at him. "I am not so proud," she went on, advancing into the room. "I am quite willing to give my reasons for breaking off the match. Is this the girl?" she asked, abruptly. Susie looked at her with fiery eyes; their glances crossed; one almost expected to see the sparks fly as of two blades meeting.