d, one of us weeping pathetically. Her heart had just
received its first sharp blow, and I pitied her, for the first one hurts.

After walking a little way in silence, I remarked, "There is no reason
why we should add to your father's troubles by telling him of this
affair."

"Nor Sarah," sobbed Frances. "She is like a wasp--all sting." After a
long pause devoted to drying her eyes, she continued, "But it has not
been much of an affair."

"I am not asking what it has been, Frances," I returned, speaking
tenderly, for I knew her heart was sore. "I have no right to ask."

"Yes, you have the right to ask," she replied, earnestly. "You have
earned it to-day, if never before. I'll tell you all about it. You see I
did not know--I did not think it possible--that he was the evil person
you described. To me he seemed as high-minded as he was gallant and
handsome."

"He is high-minded in many respects," I said, "and might have been a
decent man in all respects had he lived under other conditions. He is far
the best of what is known at court as 'the Royal Clique,' and is an angel
of goodness compared with the king and his despicable son, James Crofts,
Duke of Monmouth. Do you want to tell me where and how you met Hamilton?"

After a moment's silence she began her pathetic little narrative,
hesitating at first, but gathering courage as she spoke:--

"I first saw him on the street in St. Albans, more than a month ago. Of
course I did not look directly at him, but I saw him and knew that he was
looking at me. I have been used to being stared at by men since I was a
child of twelve--I am past eighteen now, you know--and learned long
ago not to resent an impertinence which is alike unavoidable and, in a
poor way, flattering. But there was this difference: when he stared at me
I blush to say I liked it, nor should I have repulsed him had he spoken
to me. He was the first man I had ever seen that had really attracted me.
You are not a woman, therefore you cannot understand me fully. You see, a
man goes to a woman; a woman is drawn to a man, usually, I suppose,
against her will. I know little about the subject, this being my first,
and, I hope, my last experience, but--"

"And I, too, hope," I interrupted.

"Yes," she continued quickly. "But do you know I can almost understand
the feeble, hopeless resistance which the iron tries to exert against the
magnet. But, cousin Ned, it is powerless."

Here she brought her handkerchief t