han Ben. The colonel was rich and could gratify all her
ambitions. There could be no reasonable doubt that he was fond of her;
and she had heard it said, by those more experienced than she and
therefore better qualified to judge, that he was infatuated with her.
Certainly he had shown her a great deal of attention. He had taken her
driving; he had lent her books and music; he had brought or sent the
New York paper every day for her to read.

He had been kind to her Aunt Laura, too, probably for her niece's
sake; for the colonel was kind by nature, and wished to make everyone
about him happy. It was fortunate that her Aunt Laura was fond of
Philip. If she should decide to marry the colonel, she would have her
Aunt Laura come and make her home with them: she could give Philip the
attention with which his stepmother's social duties might interfere.
It was hardly likely that her aunt entertained any hope of marriage;
indeed, Miss Laura had long since professed herself resigned to old
maidenhood.

But in spite of these rosy dreams, Graciella was not happy. To marry
the colonel she must give up Ben; and Ben, discarded, loomed up larger
than Ben, accepted. She liked Ben; she was accustomed to Ben. Ben was
young, and youth attracted youth. Other things being equal, she would
have preferred him to the colonel. But Ben was poor; he had nothing
and his prospects for the future were not alluring. He would inherit
little, and that little not until his uncle's death. He had no
profession. He was not even a good farmer, and trifled away, with his
useless models and mechanical toys, the time he might have spent in
making his uncle's plantation productive. Graciella did not know that
Fetters had a mortgage on the plantation, or Ben's prospects would
have seemed even more hopeless.

She felt sorry not only for herself, but for Ben as well--sorry that
he should lose her--for she knew that he loved her sincerely. But her
first duty was to herself. Conscious that she possessed talents,
social and otherwise, it was not her view of creative wisdom that it
should implant in the mind tastes and in the heart longings destined
never to be realised. She must discourage Ben--gently and gradually,
for of course he would suffer; and humanity, as well as friendship,
counselled kindness. A gradual breaking off, too, would be less
harrowing to her own feelings.

"I suppose you admire Colonel French immensely," said Ben, with
assumed impartiality.