him I shall be very miserable for a long time," and here Adele burst
into tears.

"But why do you grieve, Adele?" said I, "You like him, and he offers to
marry you. My advice is very simple,--marry him."

"Yes," replied Adele, "if all was as it seems. I agree with you that my
course is clear; but, notwithstanding his repeated assertions that he
loves me as Adele Chabot, I am convinced in my own mind that he still
believes me to be Caroline Stanhope. Perhaps he thinks that I am a
romantic young lady who is determined to be married _pour ses beaux
yeux_ alone, and conceals her being an heiress on that account, and he
therefore humours me by pretending to believe that I am a poor girl
without a shilling. Now, Valerie, here is my difficulty. If I were to
marry him, as he proposes, when he comes to find out that he has been
deceiving himself, and that I am not the heiress, will he not be angry,
and perhaps disgusted with me--will he not blame me instead of himself,
as people always do, and will he not ill-treat me? If he did, it would
break my heart, for I love him--_love_ him dearly. Then, on the other
hand, I may be wrong, and he may be, as he says, in love with Adele
Chabot, so that I shall have thrown away my chance of happiness from an
erroneous idea. What shall I do, Valerie? Do advise me."

"Much will depend on the character of the man, Adele. You have some
insight into people's characters, what idea have you formed of his?"

"I hardly can say, for when men profess to be in love they are such
deceivers. Their faults are concealed, and they assume virtues which
they do not possess. On my first meeting with him, I thought that he
was a proud man--perhaps I might say a vain man--but, since I have seen
more of him, I think I was wrong."

"No, Adele, depend upon it you were right; at that time you were not
blinded as you are now. Do you think him a good-tempered man?"

"Yes, I firmly believe that he is. I made a remark at Brighton: a child
that had its fingers very dirty ran out to him, and as it stumbled
printed the marks of its fingers upon his white trousers, so that he was
obliged to return home and change them. Instead of pushing the child
away, he saved it from falling, saying, `Well, my little man, it's
better that I should change my dress than that you should have broken
your head on the pavement.'"

"Well, Adele, I agree with you that it is a proof of great good temper."

"Well, then, Valer