s eyes.

"Thank you, Uncle Clarence. Thank you, Uncle Fabian. I am grateful for
your congratulations, on account of your good intentions;
but--congratulations are quite uncalled for on this occasion."

"Why--what on earth do you mean, Cora?" inquired Mr. Fabian, while Mr.
Clarence looked full of uneasiness.

"I mean that I have never been engaged to the Duke of Cumbervale, and
never mean to marry him. Mr. Rockharrt's announcement was unauthorized
and unfounded. It was just an act of his despotic will, to oblige me to
contract a marriage which he favors."

The two men looked on the speaker in mute amazement.

"We will not talk more of this to-night. But the matter must be set
right to-morrow," said Cora.

A little later Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt took leave and departed for
their home.

CHAPTER XXVII.

UNREQUITED LOVE.

The Duke of Cumbervale, weary of a sleepless pillow, arose early and
rang his bell, startling his gentlemanly valet from his morning
slumbers; dressed himself with monsieur's assistance, and went down
stairs with the intention of taking a walk before the family should be
up.

But his intention was forestalled by the appearance of Mr. Rockharrt
coming out of his chamber on the opposite side of the hall.

The Iron King looked up in some surprise at the apparition of his guest
at so early an hour; but quickly composed himself as he gave him the
matutinal salutation:

"Ah, good morning, duke. An early riser, like myself, eh? Come down
into the library with me, and let us look over the morning papers."

A cheerful coal fire was burning in the grate, a very acceptable comfort
on this chill November morning.

This was one of the happy days when there is "nothing in the
papers"--that is to say, nothing interesting, absorbing, soul harrowing,
in the form of financial ruin, highway robbery, murder, arson, fire, or
flood. Everything in the world at the present brief hour seemed going on
well, consequently the papers were very dull, flat, stale and
unprofitable, and were soon laid aside by the host and his guest, and
they fell into conversation.

"You took a long walk yesterday, I hear--went across in the ferry boat,
and strolled up to the foot of Scythia's Roost."

"I did. Can you tell me anything about that curious spot?"

"No; nothing but that it was the dwelling of an Indian woman, who
pretended to second sight, and who should have been sent to the State's
prison as a felon, or,