rself as fair game to be hunted down by hungry
gentlemen. She had enjoyed the society of the Stanhopes, she had
greatly liked the cordiality of Charlotte, and had been happy in her
new friends. Now she saw the cause of all this kindness, and her
mind was opened to a new phase of human life.

"Miss Stanhope," said she haughtily, "has been contriving for me a
great deal of honour, but she might have saved herself the trouble.
I am not sufficiently ambitious."

"Pray don't be angry with her, Mrs. Bold," said he, "or with me
either."

"Certainly not with you, Mr. Stanhope," said she with considerable
sarcasm in her tone. "Certainly not with you."

"No--nor with her," said he imploringly.

"And why, may I ask you, Mr. Stanhope, have you told me this singular
story? For I may presume I may judge by your manner of telling it
that--that--that you and your sister are not exactly of one mind on
the subject."

"No, we are not."

"And if so," said Mrs. Bold, who was now really angry with the
unnecessary insult which she thought had been offered to her. "And
if so, why has it been worth your while to tell me all this?"

"I did once think, Mrs. Bold--that you--that you--"

The widow now again became entirely impassive, and would not lend the
slightest assistance to her companion.

"I did once think that you perhaps might--might have been taught to
regard me as more than a friend."

"Never!" said Mrs. Bold, "never. If I have ever allowed myself to
do anything to encourage such an idea, I have been very much to
blame--very much to blame indeed."

"You never have," said Bertie, who really had a good-natured anxiety
to make what he said as little unpleasant as possible. "You never
have, and I have seen for some time that I had no chance--but my
sister's hopes ran higher. I have not mistaken you, Mrs. Bold, though
perhaps she has."

"Then why have you said all this to me?"

"Because I must not anger her."

"And will not this anger her? Upon my word, Mr. Stanhope, I do not
understand the policy of your family. Oh, how I wish I was at home!"
And as she expressed the wish she could restrain herself no longer
and burst out into a flood of tears.

Poor Bertie was greatly moved. "You shall have the carriage to
yourself going home," said he; "at least you and my father. As for
me, I can walk, or for the matter of that it does not much signify
what I do." He perfectly understood that part of Eleanor's grief
arose from the a