"Is my bride going to leave me so soon?" he whispered, fondly. "Yes; but she will come back when you come to New York for her," answered Leonora, with a blush and a smile. "That will be in a very short while, then. But why go at all, darling? Couldn't we be married right away?" "Without my trousseau? No, sir, thank you. Besides, my aunt and I have some business to attend to in New York, and I want her to see my native land and appreciate it." "When may I come after you, then, my darling? In September?" "Oh, dear, no!" "October?" "No, indeed--that is, I will ask Aunt West," demurely. "I shall not wait a day longer than October, miss. Do you hear that?" he says, laughing, but in earnest, for he says to himself, thoughtfully, "The darling has no one but Mrs. West to take care of her, and the sooner she is married and settled, the better for her." "You begin to play the tyrant soon," laughs the happy betrothed. "In revenge for the way you have treated me all this while," he replies. And then he adds, with a sterner light in his handsome blue eyes: "I am going to take you home now, Leonora, and present you to Lady Lancaster as my promised wife. Are you willing, my darling?" "I have no objection," she answered, for Leonora, being but human, thought she would rather enjoy this triumph over her enemy. So they went back to the house, and Lancaster led his love to the library, where one of the servants had told him Lady Lancaster was sitting with Mrs. West, going over the housekeeping books of the latter. They opened the door and entered. My lady stared at the pair in horror for a moment, then she rose majestically to her feet and struck her gold-headed cane upon the floor with a resounding thump. "So you are come home at last!" she cried. "But what does this mean? Why have you brought this impertinent minx into my presence?" "Perhaps you will speak more respectfully of Miss West when I tell you that she is my promised wife, and the future Lady of Lancaster," her nephew answered sternly. "The Lady of Lancaster! What! do you mean that you have sacrificed all your future prospects for this low-born and penniless girl?" cried my lady, growing purple in the face and actually foaming at the lips with fury. "I have sacrificed nothing, and I have secured my future happiness by my betrothal," Lord Lancaster answered, proudly. The old lady stared at him speechless with rage for a few seconds, then she struck her cane violently upon the floor again, and burst out with concentrated wrath: