I inquired for she had paused abruptly, and seemed to be
entirely engrossed in her flowers.

"The one aim they have had in view for several years past is to see
Agatha mistress of Crown Anstey. She was educated solely and entirely
for that purpose."

"I do not believe it!" cried Clare, indignantly.

"I should never expect you to do so. You are too unworldly--too good;
you know nothing of the manners of fashionable people. Sir Barnard knew
it. They fairly hunted him down; they were always driving over here, or
asking Sir Barnard and Miles there; they were continually contriving
fresh means to throw Miles and Agatha together."

I would not please her by showing my anger.

"Perhaps," I said, carelessly, "Miles admired her; he may even have been
her lover."

She turned to me with a strange, glittering smile, a look I could not
fathom on her face.

"No," she replied: "Miles knew all about it; he was too sensible to be
caught by the insipid charms of a mere school-girl. Sir Barnard was not
so wise; he would have liked to join the two estates--he spoke of it
very often--but Miles never gave the matter a serious thought."

There was such unconcealed bitterness in her words and look--such malice
in that glittering smile, I turned away half in disgust.

"All our neighbors understand Lady Thesiger's politics," she continued;
"they have been a source of great amusement for some time."

"Miss Thesiger is not a day above eighteen," I said, fairly angry at
last; "so that there can not have been much time for manoeuvring."

"Ah!" she said, "how I admire you, Sir Edgar. That simple, noble faith
you have in women is most beautiful to me; one sees it so seldom in
those who have lived always among fashionable men and women."

A little speech that was intended to remind me how strange and fresh I
was to this upper world. I began to find something like dislike to
mademoiselle growing up in my mind; but I spoke to her of the Thesigers
no more.

CHAPTER VII.

It seems an unmanly thing to write of a woman--my own face flushes hotly
as I write the words--but to make my story plain the truth must be
told. I could not help seeing that Coralie d'Aubergne was growing to
like me very much.

To describe how a man woos a woman is a task pleasant enough. It is
natural and beautiful; he is in his place then and she in hers; but who
would not shrink from the hateful task of describing how a woman woos a
man?

God bless all wo