ng uneasy.

"No, nothing of that sort; in fact, I believe she is rather
good-looking--at least, enough so to attract admirers, but----"

"Come now, never falter, man! Give me the coup de grace at once. Is
she a coquette?"

Verheyst shrugged his shoulders. "I have never heard it said she was;
at least, it must be a strange sort of coquetry she's accused of."

"Don't keep me on the rack any longer; but tell me at once the worst
you know of her."

"Oh, there's nothing that one can really call bad; yet in your
eyes it may appear sinister enough. What I have heard is, that an
acquaintance of ours, a friend of my youngest brother, was madly in
love with her, and she refused his offer in a manner little encouraging
for you. According to his account she must be a regular shrew, who
declines to marry on the grounds that she will acknowledge no man to
be her lord and master. She so ill-treated this poor Charles Felters,
the best-natured old sheep that ever went on two legs, that he has
taken fright and run away--gone off to Africa, as if afraid of meeting
her again in Europe. He is not only a good fellow in every respect,
but what we call in common parlance a 'catch,' his father being the
richest banker in our part of the country. I don't wish to frighten
you, but----"

"Well, I see nothing in all this to be frightened about," said Leopold,
calmly. "That she has refused a booby who runs away for fear of a
woman, only proves her to be a girl of character. I begin to think
there will be something piquant in this adventure, and I prefer a
lively young lady to a wearisome, insignificant girl."

"I am glad to hear you take up the subject so pleasantly. I, for my
part, should not like to be engaged in such a contest, but you are
morally obliged----"

"In fact, without the obligation, your account has so excited my
curiosity that I should feel tempted to undertake this conquest. Do
you see this portrait of the fifteenth century? It is that of one of
my ancestors who, for the honour of his lady, suffered his left hand
to be cut off. He was very ugly, and whenever I was naughty or in
a temper my good mother would lead me up to this portrait and say,
'Fie! Leopold, you are like the Templar,' for he was a knight of
that order. She said I had the same fierce glance of the eyes when I
was naughty, and I have since been convinced that she was right. The
resemblance struck me in a private interview I once had with my uncle,
the Cabin