LA had them. Her only brother inherited his father's lofty title sometime since; the old Duke went the way of all flesh at a ripe age, to dwindle into dust amongst his distinguished ancestors. At Noel D'Auvergne's residence in Dublin the young Duke fell in with the Middletons, and became so intimately acquainted with that unassuming family that the result was the following critical interview with our friend Paul, who is now an estated gentleman, having obtained the ownership of an extensive property, and an appropriate country mansion by the death of a bachelor uncle. The meeting took place in D'Auvergne's study. 66 "You wish to speak to me on particular business I understand," said Paul, in a kind tone habitual with him. "I do, Mr. Middleton." "Very well, I am ready to hear you.” "Please be seated, Mr. Middleton," the Duke added respectfully. Paul sat down in his quiet way, and looked attentively at the young nobleman, who hesitated before he began. "Your daughter Adelaidehesitated again. “Well?” asked Paul anxiously. وو and then he Why, sir, to be explicit about it, I love her dearly, and I have sought this conversation with you in order to ascertain your wishes upon the subject. Will you permit me to make her an offer of my hand?" "Have you spoken to her relative to this?" Paul demanded, and his strong frame trembled; for his only child was more precious to him than his own life-blood, and far too dear to him to be bestowed upon even a Duke-and an English duke. "Not one word. I would not do so without your consent. She is your only child, and I am a gentleman. A Duke if you will-but a gentleman first.” Paul Middleton held out his hand, and unbidden tears coursed down his cheeks. They were tears of joy at his daughter's good fortune, and tears of sorrow that he must submit to lose her, to let her go and live away from him in another, a new and an unknown home. The nobleman seizing Paul Middleton's proffered hand clasped it within his own, with a hearty shake more expressive than language. At this moment there was a gentle knock against the study door. The two men heard it, and their hearts leaped up with joy. Each knew who gave that affectionate knock. For was not one a father's, and was not the other a lover's heart? "Papa dearest, please shall I come in?" "Not now, my darling." "Of course she may!" interposed the lover. "Stay, Adelaide!" exclaimed the father, "Come in!" And into the room tripped with the spring of a fawn-but not a timid one, there was no one she was afraid of in this house— "A lovely being, scarcely form'd or moulded, "Oh! now what a shame. I have made an intrusion." "By no means," replied the Duke decidedly. "You must not blame me, papa. I was told by Noel that there was no one here but yourself, papa." "Then our infallible lawyer was for once in the wrong," interrupted the Duke. She glanced at him with the sweetest artlessness, which brought a smile on the faces of the two men, and her eyes sparkled with innocent joy. It was plain to see that she would not harm a fly. "What a wife she will make," the Duke thought. "You I am sure will excuse me," she said to him with a blush upon each cheek. "I came in here to get a book which mamma left on the shelves there. I will not be a quarter of a minute disturbing you." She went in search of the volume. "If you will allow me, I will procure it for you," the lover said. She assented, and made way for him to ascend the little portable ladder D'Auvergne used in the study. "There it is," she exclaimed, and pointed to the book. He handed it down to her and descended the ladder. She thanked him, and carrying the book away with her remarked,— "When gentlemen are talking seriously on business" -there was the laughter of purity in her voice "a silly goose of a girl ought to keep out of their way." She opened the door and was closing it, but her father called her back. "" Adelaide, my sweet child," he said, "his Grace desires to speak with you alone. Recollect, my child, that he has my fullest permission to say to you what you are about to hear." He kissed her blooming cheek. "And now," he added. thoughtfully, "I had much better leave you alone together." The father gave a short sigh-it was hardly a sorrowful sigh—and shut the study door behind him. They were alone, and the old old story was told. Adelaide happened to be already deeply in love with the Duke of Merton, but not because he was the Duke of Merton. She was too young yet in knowledge of the world to be in love with him merely for his being a duke. For her he was not entirely yet a Lord of Burleigh. And no "Trouble weigh'd upon her, And perplex'd her, night and morn, With the burden of an honour Unto which she was not born." In three months' time the happy nobleman conducted his rosebud to her future home, where "Many a gallant, gay domestic Bows before him at the door," in that dear Devonshire which is so fondly regarded |