nd yet how disastrous it is to wonder about the wisdom of any
decision once arrived at, of any step once taken! I daresay every one
shrinks a little at first from the responsibility of undertaking another
person's happiness."

"Not every one," replied Sara; "the generous ones only."

"You have known Beauclerk ever since he was a boy, haven't you?" asked
Agnes.

"Yes. He was such a handsome lad, and he has always been the same."

"I am devoted to him," said Agnes. "I am proud to think that he has
chosen me for his wife. But one thought is perpetually coming up in my
mind: Shall I be able to make him happy? A girl, as a rule, seems to
believe that she can make a man happy merely by loving him. Again and
again friends of mine have married in this idea. And the hope seldom
answers."

She spoke very quietly, yet there was great feeling, even great
bitterness in her tone. She was thinking of David Rennes. Sara had a
curious magnetism which attracted all those with whom she came into
friendly relations. Being imaginative, though never inquisitive, her
quick sympathies rendered the most trivial interchange of ideas an
emotional exercise. This power, which would have made her a successful
actress, found its usual outlet in her pianoforte playing, which
affected her hearers as only extraordinary nervous and passionate force
can affect people. She had neither the patience nor the sternness of
mental quality which is required in a creative genius: the little songs
and poems which she sometimes composed were insipid to an astonishing
degree. Hers were the executant's gifts, and the fascination which she
exerted over men and women depended wholly on the natural charm of a
temperament made up of fire and honey. Agnes had always regarded Lady
Sara as an odd but chivalrous girl. The stories told in society about
her eccentric tastes, sayings, and doings were never to her heart's
discredit, no matter how much they puzzled, or dismayed, the
conventional set into which she had been born. It was felt that she
could be trusted, and, although many were afraid of her brains, no one
had ever known her to betray a confidence, to injure another woman's
reputation, to show the least spite, or to insist upon an undue share of
men's attention. The sex may, and do, pardon the first three sins, but
the last has yet to find its atoning virtue. All declared that Sara,
with many shortcomings, was neither a poacher nor a grabber. Girls
consulted her