Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.'" "Yet I think you will find it hard to bring the rest of the De Veres to subscribe to Tennyson's verse," Lancaster said, anxiously. "They will e'en have to. I shall please myself, if I can—mark that, lad. So you needn't scold any more, old fellow, for I am in dead earnest to make Leonora Mrs. H. De Vere," laughed the young soldier. "You are the arbiter of your own destiny. Enviable fellow!" grumbled Lancaster. "I never knew what a lucky fellow I was until now," agreed De Vere. "It was fortunate for me that I had a bachelor uncle in trade, and he left me his fortune when[Pg 57] he died. I can snap my fingers at my family if they cut up about my choice." [Pg 57] "Yes," Lancaster said, dryly. "Ah, you are just thinking to yourself what a dude I am!" exclaimed De Vere, suddenly. "Here I am talking so confidentially about my choice, when I do not even know if she will look at me. What do you think about it, eh? Do I stand any chance with her?" "If she were a society girl, I should say that you stood no chance of being refused. No girl who had been properly educated by Madame Fashion would say no to ten thousand a year and a title in prospective," Lancaster replied, with conviction. "You are putting my personal attractions quite out of the question," said De Vere, chagrined. "Because they are quite secondary to your more solid recommendations," sarcastically. "And, after all, you have not said what you think about my chances with Miss West." "I do not know what to say, because I do not at all understand her. Yet if she is poor, as of course she must be, and being lowly born, as we know, she could not do better than take you, if she is worldly wise." "You talk about my worldly advantages very cynically, Lancaster. Do you not think that I might be loved for myself?" inquired De Vere, pulling at his dark mustache vexedly, and wondering if he (Lancaster) believed himself to be the only handsome man in the world. "Why, yes, of course. You're not bad looking. You have the smallest foot in the regiment, they say, and the[Pg 58] whitest hand,
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