say to whom I allude?" he murmurs. "Mrs. Talbot, pardon me if I
have been impertinent in thinking of you as that woman."

A little flickering smile adorns Dora's lips for a moment, then,
suddenly remembering that smiles do not become her, she relapses into
her former calm.

"You flatter me," she says sweetly.

"I never flatter," he responds, with telling emphasis. "But, I can see
you are not angry, and so I am emboldened to say plainly, I would gladly
see you my cousin's wife. Is the idea not altogether abhorrent to you?"

"No. Oh, no!"

"It is perhaps--pardon me if I go too far--even agreeable to you?"

"Mr. Dynecourt," says Mrs. Talbot, suddenly glancing at him and laying
her jeweled fingers lightly on his arm, "I will confess to you that I am
tired of being alone--dependent on myself, as it were--thrown on my own
judgment for the answering of every question that arises. I would gladly
acknowledge a superior head. I would have some one to help me now and
then with a word of advice; in short, I would have a husband. And,"--here
she lays her fan against her lips and glances archly at him--"I confess
too that I like Sir Adrian as--well--as well as any man I know."

"He is a very fortunate man"--gravely. "I would he knew his happiness."

"Not for worlds," says Mrs. Talbot, with well-feigned alarm. "You would
not even hint to him such a thing as--as--" She stops, confused.

"I shall hint nothing--do nothing, except what you wish. Ah, Mrs.
Talbot"--with a heavy sigh--"you are supremely happy! I envy you! With
your fascinations and"--insinuatingly--"a word in season from me, I see
no reason why you should not claim as your own the man whom you--well,
let us say, like; while I--"

"If I can befriend you in any way," interrupts Dora quickly, "command
me."

She is indeed quite dazzled by the picture he has painted before her
eyes. Can it be--is it--possible, that Sir Adrian may some day be hers?
Apart from his wealth, she regards him with very tender feelings, and of
late she has been rendered at times absolutely miserable by the thought
that he has fallen a victim to the charms of Florence.

Now if, by means of this man, her rival can be kept out of Adrian's way,
all may yet be well, and her host may be brought to her feet before her
visit comes to an end.

Of Arthur Dynecourt's infatuation for Florence she is fully aware, and
is right in deeming that part of his admiration for the beautiful girl
has grown out o