if you do. And take my oath upon it,
you alone can save her from that."

"Nonsense!" I exclaimed, but my breath caught sharply.

"Listen, Richard. Mr. Manners's manoeuvres are the talk of the town, and
the beast of a duke is forever wining and dining in Arlington Street. At
first people ridiculed, now they are giving credit. It is said," he
whispered fearfully, "it is said that his Grace has got Mr. Manners in
his power,--some question of honour, you understand, which will ruin
him,--and that even now the duke is in a position to force the marriage."

He leaned forward and searched me with his keen gray eyes, as tho'
watching the effect of the intelligence upon me. I was, indeed, stunned.

"Now, had she refused me fifty times instead of only twice," my Lord
continued, "I could not wish her such a fate as that vicious scoundrel.
And since she will not have me, I would rather it were you than any man
alive. For she loves you, Richard, as surely as the world is turning."

"Oh, no!" I replied passionately; "you are deceived by the old liking she
has always had for me since we were children together." I was deeply
touched by his friendship. "But tell me how that could affect this
marriage with Chartersea. I believe her pride capable of any sacrifice
for the family honour."

He made a gesture of impatience that knocked over a candlestick.

"There, curse you, there you are again!" he said, "showing how little you
know of women and of their pride. If she were sure that you loved her,
she would never marry Chartersea or any one else. She has had near the
whole of London at her feet, and toyed with it. Now she has been amusing
herself with Charles Fox, but I vow she cares for none of them. Titles,
fame, estates, will not move her."

"If she were sure that I loved her!" I repeated, dazed by what he was
saying. "How you are talking, Comyn!"

"Just that. Ah, how I know her, Richard! She can be reckless beyond
notion. And if it were proved to her that you were in love with Miss
Swain, the barrister's daughter, over whom we were said to have fought,
she would as soon marry Chartersea, or March, or the devil, to show you
how little she cared."

"With Patty Swain!" I exclaimed.

"But if she knew you did not care a rope's end for Patty, Mr. Marmaduke
and his reputation might go into exile together," he continued, without
heeding. "So much for a woman's pride, I say. The day the news of your
disappearance arrived, Richard, sh