in any
way induce her to repent at present or forbear in future. I might bring
her to regret, but regret is a long journey from repentance. If her heart
had gone so far beyond her control as to cause her to seek Hamilton, as
she had done that day, it were surely a profitless task for me to try to
put her right. If she, who was modest, honest, and strong, could not
right herself, trying as I knew she had tried, no one else could do it
for her.

Even my silence seemed to be a reproach, so I tried to think of something
to say which would neither bear upon what she had done nor seem to avoid
it.

After a moment or two, Betty, that is, thoughts of her, came to my
relief, and I said: "If Betty were at court, she would rival the best of
the beauties. There's a charm about the girl which grows on one. I have
known her since she came from school in France, over a year ago, and the
more I see of her the better I like her. She has grace of person and
manner, is well educated, tender of heart, honest, and has wonderful
eyes."

"And dimples," suggested Frances. "You might win her, Baron Ned. I should
like to see you do something foolish to bring you down to my level."

There was a distinct note of sarcasm in her voice, and I felt sure that
if I remained silent there was more to come. I was not disappointed, for
presently, after two or three false starts, she continued:--

"I do not care to hear your comments on what I have just done. I know
quite as well in my simplicity as you in your wisdom the many good
reasons why I should not have visited the Old Swan to-day. I knew before
I started, but I should have gone had the reasons been multiplied a
thousand fold in number and cogency. Therefore, I do not care to hear
your comments on the subject. I should have gone just the same had I
feared that death awaited me. I had but one purpose in life, and for
weeks have had but one--to see him. If I was willing to put aside the
love of my father and all other considerations dear to me, nothing that
you can say will do you any good or be of advantage to me."

"My dear Frances," I replied, "I find no fault with you. I am sorry
you had to do it, but I know it could not be avoided. You were helpless
against an overpowering motive. I am sorry for you, yet I admire you more
than ever before, because of your recklessness. I have always thought you
were cold, or at least that you were wise enough to keep yourself cool,
but now I know that benea