e.

She was fond of Rene de Ronville, and it would have been quite in
accordance with the law of ordinary human forces, indeed almost the
inevitable thing, for her to love and marry him in the fullness of
time; but her imagination was outgrowing her surroundings. Books had
given her a world of romance wherein she moved at will, meeting a class
of people far different from those who actually shared her experiences.
Her day-dreams and her night-dreams partook much more of what she had
read and imagined than of what she had seen and heard in the raw little
world around her.

Her affection for Rene was interfered with by her large admiration for
the heroic, masterful and magnetic knights who charged through the
romances of the Roussillon collection. For although Rene was
unquestionably brave and more than passably handsome, he had no armor,
no war-horse, no shining lance and embossed shield--the difference,
indeed, was great.

Those who love to contend against the fatal drift of our age toward
over-education could find in Alice Tarleton, foster daughter of Gaspard
Roussillon, a primitive example, an elementary case in point. What
could her book education do but set up stumbling blocks in the path of
happiness? She was learning to prefer the ideal to the real. Her soul
was developing itself as best it could for the enjoyment of conditions
and things absolutely foreign to the possibilities of her lot in life.

Perhaps it was the light and heat of imagination, shining out through
Alice's face, which gave her beauty such a fascinating power. Rene saw
it and felt its electrical stroke send a sweet shiver through his
heart, while he stood before her.

"You are very beautiful to-night Alice," he presently said, with a
suddenness which took even her alertness by surprise. A flush rose to
his dark face and immediately gave way to a grayish pallor. His heart
came near stopping on the instant, he was so shocked by his own daring;
but he laid a hand on her hair, stroking it softly.

Just a moment she was at a loss, looking a trifle embarrassed, then
with a merry laugh she stepped aside and said:

"That sounds better, Monsieur Rene de Ronville much better; you will be
as polite as Father Beret after a little more training."

She slipped past him while speaking and made her way back again to the
main room, whence she called to him:

"Come here, I've something to show you."

He obeyed, a sheepish trace on his countenance betra