uation
by not seeing it, and one always finds trouble by looking for it."

"Your philosophy wearies me," she answered petulantly.

"In that case, I'll confine my remarks to facts and to a mere statement
of your duty. You must have money. Accept the king's pension and laugh at
him."

"I'll not take your advice," she retorted angrily. "I'll return to my
father's house at once. He was right. A decent woman has no business at
court."

"Since you speak so plainly, I'll do likewise," I rejoined, growing
angry. "You came to court to make your fortune by marriage. That is a
bald, ugly way to state the case, but it is the truth. Admit it."

"I fear I must," she answered, hanging her head.

"You surely could not ask greater progress toward your desire than you
are making," I continued. "You came into favor at a bound, and have been
growing each day, not only with the king, but with all the court,
including the queen, the duchess, and the duke. Every one loves you and,
better still, respects you, which is a distinction few beautiful women
enjoy nowadays. Dick Talbot, the Duke of Tyrconnel, the richest unmarried
nobleman in England, is eager to marry you, and would ask you to be his
wife if you would but throw him a smile."

"I hate him!" she retorted impatiently. "An overgrown Irish fool. One
would as well marry a bull calf!"

"But he is as decent as any man I know, and will meet all your purposes
in coming to court in the matter of wealth and station. I don't know that
it is a misfortune for a woman to marry a man she can rule."

"Yes, it is," she answered. "She always despises him. I should prefer one
who would beat me to such a man."

"But if you intend to carry out the purpose you had in coming to court,
you--"

But she interrupted me, speaking slowly, almost musingly: "The purpose I
had, perhaps, but not the one I have. I did not know myself. I did not
know. I doubt if any girl does. I don't want to marry any man."

"Is it because another man fills your heart?" I asked, speaking gently.
"Tell me, my beautiful sister, tell me. I'll find no fault with you. I'll
help you if I can."

I received a sigh for my answer, and another and another, as she walked
by my side, hanging her head. But when I urged her to speak, she raised
her eyes to mine, and there was a cold, angry glint in them as she
asked:--

"Do you mean--?"

She did not mention Hamilton's name, but I knew whom she meant and
answered:--

"Yes."

A