many suitors, young, handsome, noble, and rich,
she might choose——was summarily rejected.

"I will not be married for money," said the
countess, "but for myself alone. Could you
love me if I were poor? If, for instance, I
earned my daily bread by selling oranges at the
doors of the theatre?"

"I could," said Sir Christopher, not without
some surprise at the mention of oranges
[a question put to himself without words,
"Had she, too, heard that silly gossip about
the orange-girl, and was she jealous?"]——"and
only wish that you were a peasant girl, with
no other dowry than your loveliness and your
angelic sweetness of disposition, that 1 might
make you the offer I make now, and prove to
you how dearly and how truly I love you."

The countess looked incredulous, though she
was beginning to feel very happy; but having,
from the company she had lately kept, learned
to add the cunning of the serpent to the gentleness
of the dove, and thinking, moreover, that
Sir Christopher was fast coming into the right
road in which she wished him to travel, she
dallied with him yet a little.

"I am too young to marry," she said. " I do
not know whether I shall marry at all. If I do,
I am not sure whether I should like to marry
an Englishman. In any case, I cannot marry
without my uncle's consent, and I think he
objects to Englishmen."

Sir Christopher, as may be supposed, did not
lose heart of grace from the results of this
conversation. Seeking an interview with the duke,
who seemed to take an almost paternal interest
in his fortunes, he ascertained that so
far from having any dislike to Englishmen——or
Englishwomen——this great magnifico esteemed
them both very highly——especially the ladies;
and next to being a Spanish grandee, he
thought it the finest thing in the world to be
an English nobleman. He also ascertained——
or, rather, hoped he had ascertained——that the
saucy countess was not nearly so indifferent to
himself as she pretended, and that there was no
one among her many suitors upon whom she
looked with greater, if with so much favour.

"When I was your age," said the duke, "I
was never very satisfied to take no for an
answer in matters of the heart, unless I
discovered that the superior attractions of a rival
had not left me the ghost of a chance. In the
latter case I summoned my philosophy to my
aid, and cooled myself with it as speedily as I
might. It seems to me, signor, that you do not
require any cooling at present, and that, on the
contrary, a little more heat might possibly be
advantageous. My fair niece is, as you may
have observed, a proud woman, and the prouder
a woman is the more ardently she loves——if she
loves at all. That, at least, is my experience.
As for proud women, they are my especial
favourites. I love them dearly; for of such is
my kingdom."

The duke and the countess managed so
well, and Sir Christopher became so importunate
a wooer, that the marriage was agreed
upon, and, for a wonder, Queen Elizabeth
did not object to it. Higher powers than the
majesty of England were at work, and the
marriage, though not made in Heaven, was
made in a place where a great deal of passionate
work is done. It was celebrated with great
pomp and festivity, though it was remarked as
unfortunate that the good Duke of Sidonia San
Felice was taken very suddenly ill on the night
preceding the ceremony, and could not attend
in church to give away the bride. Sir Christopher
considerately and respectfully hinted
that the marriage might be delayed for a day or
two to permit of the duke's presence. "No!
no!" said the duke, "that would be unlucky.
Even were I at the point of death, which I am
not——though sometimes in my sad moments I
feel that I should like to die——I would not
consent to be such a mar-joy as that, and to
stand between two loving hearts, with my
miserable ailments. Go, my son, and get
married, and may joy go with you." The duke
recovered next day so suddenly, and looked so
remarkably well, that ill-natured people (people
always are so ill natured) began to think it
strange, and to recal the fact that no one had
ever seen him at church or chapel since he
came to England. He was not a religious
man, evidently.

Tradition, if her voice were truly represented
by the good old dame from whom I gathered
this story, has not recorded whether in this
instance the course of true love ran smooth,
and whether they were happy; but that they
lived together, to all outward appearance,
as man and wife should, decently and honourably,
according to their station, seems
obvious, from the fact that Sir Christopher,
seven years after the nuptials, gave a splendid
ball, of which his wife did the honours,
and at which all the notabilities of London
were present. Lady Hatton had for the last
year been in very indifferent health. She seemed
unhappy, but her lord could never understand
exactly what was the matter; and though she
was attended by the most eminent physicians of
the day, the only explanation they could give of
her malady was that it was mental, and that she
was suffering from some secret sorrow, which she
seemed disinclined to divulge. Her uncle had
disappeared from England very shortly after her
marriage, and explained to Sir Christopher, as
a reason for not keeping up a correspondence
with him, that he had made up his mind to see
the world, to travel to the remotest ends of the
earth in search of adventures. " In fact," he
said, in a jocose humour, "I am like a roaring
lion, I like to go about the earth seeking whom
[ may devour. I speak metaphorically, of
course, and mean what I may devour in the
shape of new excitement, and fresh experience
of men and their ways." He promised, howver,
to leave Lady Hatton a clue to his whereabout
in case he should ever be wanted. But
he never was wanted. Sir Christopher mentioned
him but rarely, and noticed particularly whenver
he did so that Lady Hatton seemed uneasy,