nd her own emotions,
she could not have failed to notice the agitation under which Kate
suffered at many of her chance remarks. The levity, too, with which she
discussed her betrothal to Midchekoff almost offended her. The truth
was, Kate had half forgotten the reckless, unthinking style of her
friend's conversation, and it required a little practice and training to
grow accustomed to it again.

"Yes, my dear," she went on, "I have had such trouble to persuade people
that it was no marriage at all, but a kind of engagement; and when that
horrid Emperor would n't give his consent, of course there was an end
of it you may be sure, my sweet child, I never believed one syllable of
that vile creature's story about George's picture; but somehow it
has got abroad, and that odious Heidendorf goes about repeating it
everywhere. I knew well that you never cared for poor dear George!
Indeed, I told him as much when he was quite full of admiration for you.
It is so stupid in men! their vanity makes them always believe that,
if they persist--just persevere--in their attachment, the woman will
at last succumb. Now, _we_ have a better sense of these things, and
actually adore the man that shows indifference to us,--at least, I am
sure that I do. Such letters as the poor boy keeps writing about you!
And about five months ago, when he was so badly wounded, and did not
expect to recover, he actually made his will, and left you all he had
in the world. Oh dear!" said she, with a heavy sigh, "they have generous
moments, these men, but they never last; and, by the way, I must ask
your advice--though I already guess what it will be--about a
certain friend of ours, who has had what I really must call the
presumption--for, after all, Kate, I think you 'll agree with me it is a
very great presumption,----is it not, dear?"

"Until you tell me a little more," replied Kate, with a sigh, "I can
scarcely answer."

"Well, it's Mr. Jekyl--you remember, that little man that used to be so
useful at Florence; not but he has very pretty manners, and a great deal
of tact in society. His letters, too, are inimitably droll. I'll show
you some of them."

"Oh! then you are in correspondence with him?" said Kate, slyly.

"Yes; that is, he writes _to me_--and I--I sometimes send _him_ a short
note. In fact, it was the Abbe D'Esmonde induced me to think of it at
all; and I was bored here, and so unhappy, and so lonely."

"I perceive," said Kate; "but I tru