"I love her the more," said young Hazeldean, raising his front with a
noble pride, that seemed to speak of his descent from a race of cavaliers
and gentlemen,--"I love her the more because the world has slandered her
name,--because I believe her to be pure and wronged. But would they at
the Hall,--they who do not see with a lover's eyes, they who have all the
stubborn English notions about the indecorum and license of Continental
manners, and will so readily credit the worst? Oh, no! I love, I cannot
help it--but I have no hope."

"It is very possible that you may be right," exclaimed Randal, as if
struck and half convinced by his companion's argument,--"very possible;
and certainly I think that the homely folks at the Hall would fret and
fume at first, if they heard you were married to Madame di Negra. Yet
still, when your father learned that you had done so, not from passion
alone, but to save him from all pecuniary sacrifice,--to clear yourself
of debt, to--"

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Frank, impatiently.

"I have reason to know that Madame di Negra will have as large a portion
as your father could reasonably expect you to receive with any English
wife. And when this is properly stated to the squire, and the high
position and rank of your wife fully established and brought home to
him,--for I must think that these would tell, despite your exaggerated
notions of his prejudices,--and then, when he really sees Madame di
Negra, and can judge of her beauty and rare gifts, upon my word, I think,
Frank, that there would be no cause for fear. After all, too, you are
his only son. He will have no option but to forgive you; and I know how
auxiously both your parents wish to see you settled in life."