infinite difficulty that she controlled her feelings sufficiently to hear him with patience.
"In short,'" said the duke, as they drew near Sir Ambrose and his son, "I have fixed upon the day after to-morrow for your wedding, and, though I own the time is somewhat short to make preparations, you must be satisfied to have your wedding clothes after your marriage instead of before, which I should think need not make much difference. So now all you'll have to do, will be to tell your cousin; and the day after to-morrow your name will be Montagu."
"And do you know of whom you are disposing so unceremoniously?" asked Rosabella, raising her brilliant eyes from the ground, and fixing them upon him with a look of proud scorn. The duke shrunk involuntarily from the withering glance, which seemed to fall upon him with the fabled power of that of the basilisk.
"Of whom I am disposing?" stammered he, unconsciously repeating her words, "Of whom I am disposing? Why, of my niece, to be
