For Woman's Love Part- 2 by Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth (i love reading books txt) 📕

The Young Duke Bowed With Solemn Gravity At This Compliment,  Repressing

The Smile That Fluttered About His Lips. At This Moment A Waiter Entered

The Room,  And Said That "The Gentleman's" Servant Had Arrived With His

Master's Luggage,  And Requested To Know Where It Was To Be Put.

"Tell Him To Get His Dinner,  And Then Take The Luggage In The Same

Carriage To The Station," Said The Duke,  And The Messenger Withdrew.

"Have You Lunched,  Duke?" Inquired Mr. Rockharrt,  Mindful,  Even In His

Rage,  Of His Duties As A Host.

"I Have Not Thought Of Doing So," Replied The Young Man.

"Umph! I Suppose Not!" Grunted The Iron King,  As He Rang The Bell.

A Waiter Appeared.

"Any Game In The House?"

"Yes,  Sir; Fine Venison."

"Don't Want Venison--Had It For Breakfast. Anything Else?"

"A Very Fine Wild Turkey,  Sir."

"Bother! Takes Three Hours To Dress,  And I Want A Hot Lunch Got Up In

Twenty-Five Minutes,  At Longest. Any Small Game?"

"Uncommon Fine Partridges,  Sir."

"Then Have A Dozen Dressed And Sent Up,  With Proper Accompaniments; And

Lose No Time About It! Also Put A Bottle Of Johannisberg On Ice."

"Yes,  Sir."

The Waiter Vanished.

"I Must Bid You Good-By Now,  Mr. Rockharrt," Said The Duke,  Rising.

"No; You Must Not. Sit Down. Sit Down. You Must Lunch With Me,  And Drink

A Parting Glass Of Wine. Then You Will Have Plenty Of Time To Secure

Your Train,  And I To Drive To Rockhold At My Usual Hour. Say No More,

Duke. Keep Your Seat."

Cumbervale Looked At The Iron-Gray Man Before Him,  Thought Certainly

This Must Be Their Last Meeting And Parting On Earth,  And That Therefore

He Would Not Cross The Patriarch In His Humor.

"You Are Very Kind. Thank You. I Will Break A Parting Bottle Of Wine

With You Willingly."

In Double-Quick Time The Broiled Partridges Were Served,  The Wine

Placed,  And All Was Ready For The Two Men.

"Go And Tell Mr. Fabian And Mr. Clarence That I Wish Them To Come Here.

You Will Find Them Somewhere In The House," Said Mr. Rockharrt.

"Beg Pardon,  Sir; Both Gentlemen Have Gone Over To The Works," Replied

The Waiter.

This Was True. Both "Boys" Had Gorged Themselves With Cold Ham,  Bread

And Cheese,  Washed Down With Quarts Of Brown Stout,  And Were In No

Appetite To Enjoy Partridge And Johannisberg,  Even If They Had Been

Found In The Hotel.

"Glad They Have Found Out That They Must Be Attentive To Business. You

And I,  Duke,  Will Discuss The Good Things On The Table Before Us. Come."

The Two Lingered Over The Luncheon Until It Was Time For The Duke To

Start For The Depot.

"I Will Send Over For My Two Sons,  That You May Bid Them Good-By," Said

Mr. Rockharrt,  And He Turned To The Waiter,  And Told Him To Go And

Dispatch A Messenger To That Effect.

Messrs. Fabian And Clarence Soon Put In An Appearance,  And Expressed

Their Surprise And Regret At The Sudden Departure Of Their Father's

Guest,  And Their Hope And Trust To See Him Again In The Near Future.

Neither Of Them Seemed To Know That The Betrothal Declared At The Dinner

Table On The Night Before Had No Foundation In Fact. The Duke Thanked

Them For Their Good Wishes,  Invited Them To Visit Him If They Should

Find Themselves In England,  And Then He Took A Final Leave Of The

Rockharrts,  Entered The Carriage,  And Drove Off,  Through A Pouring Rain,

To The Railway Station--And Out Of Their Lives Forever.

"A Fine Thing Mistress Rothsay Has Done!" Exclaimed The Iron King,  When

His Guest Had Gone,  And He Explained Cora's Action.

Corona Had Spent The Day At Rockhold Drearily Enough. She Felt

Reasonably Sure That Her Rejection Of The Duke's Hand Would Deeply

Offend Her Grandfather And Precipitate A Crisis In Her Own Life. When

She Had Finished Her Letter To Her Brother,  In Which She Told Him Of The

Death Of Mr. Rockharrt's Wife And Added Her Own Resolution Soon To Set

Out To Join Him In His Distant Fort,  She Began To Make Preparations For

Her Journey In The Event Of Having To Leave Rockhold Suddenly. She Knew

Her Grandfather's Temper And Disposition,  And Felt That She Must Hold

Herself In Readiness To Meet Any Emergencies Brought About By Their

Manifestations. So She Set About Her Preparations.

She Had Not Much To Do. The Trunks That She Had Packed And Dispatched To

The North End Railway Station Three Months Before At The Hour When Her

Own Journey Was Arrested By The Accident To Her Grandfather,  Had

Remained In Storage There Ever Since.

The Contents Of Her Large Valise,  Which Was To Have Been Her Own

Traveling Companion In Her Long Journey To And Through The "Great

American Desert," And Which Was Well Packed With Several Changes Of

Clothes And With Small Dressing,  Sewing And Writing Cases,  Supplied All

Her Wants During The Three Months Of Her Further Sojourn At Rockhold.

She Had Only Now To Collect These Together,  Cause All The Soiled

Articles To Be Laundered,  And Then Repack The Valise. This Occupied Her

All The Afternoon Of The Short November Day.

At Six O'clock She Came Down Into The Parlor To See That The Lamps Were

Trimmed And Lighted,  And The Coal Fire Stirred Up And Replenished,  So

That Her Grandfather Should Find The Room Warm And Comfortable On His

Return Home. Then She Brought Out His Dressing Gown And Slippers,  Hung

The First Over His Arm Chair And Put The Last On The Warm Hearthstones.

At Length The Carriage Wheels Were Heard Faintly Over The Soft,  Wet

Avenue And Under The Pouring Rain.

Old John,  Waiting In The Hall To Be Ready To Open The Door In An

Instant,  Did So Before The Iron King Should Leave The Carriage,  And

Hoisting A Very Large Umbrella,  He Went Out To The Carriage Door And

Held It Over His Master While They Walked Back To The House And Entered

The Hall.

"Here! Take Off My Rubber Cloak! Take Off My Overcoat! Now My Rubber

Boots! What A Night!" Exclaimed The Old Man,  As He Came Out Of His

Shell,  Or Various Shells.

Corona Had The Pitcher Of Punch On The Table Now With A Cut-Glass Goblet

Beside It.

"I Hope You Have Not Taken Cold,  Grandfather," She Said,  Drawing His

Easy Chair Nearer The Fire.

"Hold Your Tongue! Don't Dare To Speak To Me! Leave The Room This

Instant! John! Come In Here. Pour Me Out A Glass Of That Punch,  And

While I Sip It Draw Off My Boots And Put On My Slippers," Said The Iron

King,  Throwing Himself Into His Big Easy Chair And Leaning Back.

Corona Was More Pained Than Surprised. She Had Expected Something Like

This From The Iron King. She Replied Never A Word,  But Passed Into The

Adjoining Dining Room And Sat Down There. Through The Open Door She

Could See The Old Gentleman Reclining At His Ease,  And Sipping His

Fragrant Hot Punch While Old John Drew Off His Boots,  Rubbed His Feet,

And Put On His Warm Slippers. Presently The Waiter Brought In The Soup,

Put It On The Table,  And Rang The Dinner Bell. Mr. Rockharrt Put Down

His Empty Glass,  And Arose And Came To The Table. Cora Took Her Place At

The Head Of The Board,  Hardly Knowing Whether She Would Be Allowed To

Remain There. But Her Grandfather Took Not The Slightest Notice Of Her.

She Filled His Plate With Soup,  And Put It On The Waiter Held By The

Young Footman,  Who Carried It To His Master. In This Manner Passed The

Whole Dinner In Every Course. Corona Carved Or Served The Dishes,  Filled

The Plate For Her Grandfather,  Which Was Taken To Him By The Footman.

At The End Of The Heavy Meal The Iron King Arose From The Table And

Said:

"I Am Going To My Own Room. Mistress Rothsay,  I Shall Have Something To

Say To You In The Morning;" And He Went Out.

Corona Rothsay Stood Behind Her Chair At The Head Of The Breakfast

Table,  Waiting For Mr. Rockharrt. He Entered Presently,  And Returned No

Answer To Her Respectful Salutation,  But Moodily Took His Seat,  Raised

The Cover From The Hot Dish Before Him,  And Helped Himself To A Broiled

Partridge. After The Gloomy Meal Was Finished The Iron King Arose From

The Table And Pushed Back His Chair So Suddenly And Forcibly As To

Nearly Upset His Servant.

"Come Into The Library! I Wish To Have A Decisive Talk With You!" He

Said,  In A Harsh Voice,  To His Granddaughter,  As He Strode From The

Dining Room.

Corona,  Who Had Finished Her Own Slight Breakfast Some Minutes Before,

Immediately Arose And Followed Him. On Reaching The Bookery,  Old Aaron

Rockharrt Sank Heavily Into His Big Leathern Armchair,  And Pointed,

Sternly,  To An Opposite One,  On Which Corona Obediently Seated Herself.

"Look At Me,  Mistress!" He Said,  Placing His Hands Upon The Arms Of His

Chair,  Bending Forward And Gazing On Her With Fixed,  Keen Eyes,  That

Burned Like Fire Beneath The Pent Roof Of His Shaggy Iron-Gray Brows.

Corona Looked Up At Him.

"Do You Know,  Madam,  That In Rejecting The Hand Of The Duke Of

Cumbervale You Have Offered Me An Unpardonable Affront?"

"No,  Grandfather,  I Did Not Know It; And Certainly I Never Meant--Never

Could Possibly Have Meant--To Affront You," Said Corona,  Deprecatingly.

"If I Have Been So Unhappy As To Disappoint Your Wishes,  I Am Very

Sorry,  My Dear Grandfather,  But--"

He Harshly Interrupted Her.

"Do Not