nder marble, before the world soils and spoils you."

For a moment a mist gathered in the bright eyes that rested so
compassionately, so affectionately on the girlish countenance beside
her, and then Olga continued in a lighter and more mocking tone:

"Can you keep a secret?"

"I think so. I will try."

"Well, then, prepare to envy me. Until yesterday I was poor Olga
Neville, with no heritage but my slender share of good looks, and my
ample dower of sound pink and white, strawberry and cream flesh,
symmetrically spread over a healthy osseous structure. Perhaps you do
not know (yet it would be remarkable if some gossip has not told you)
that poor mamma was sadly cheated in her second marriage; and after
bargaining with Mammon never collected her pay, and was finally cut
off with a limited annuity which ceases at her death. My own poor
father left nothing of this world's goods, consequently I am
unprovided for. We have always been generously and kindly cared for,
well fed, and handsomely clothed by Mr. Erle Palma, who, justice
constrains me to say, in all that pertains to our physical
well-being, has been almost lavish to both of us. But for some years
I have lost favour in his eyes, have lived here as it were on
sufferance, and my bread of late has not been any sweeter than the
ordinary batch of charity loaves. Yesterday I was a pensioner on his
bounty, but the god of this world's riches--_i.e._, Plutus--in
consideration no doubt of my long and faithful worship at his altars,
has suddenly had compassion upon me, and to-day I am prospectively
one of the richest women in New York. Now do you wonder that
Circassia is so jubilant?"

"Do you mean that some one has died, and left you a fortune?"

"Oh no! you idiotic cherub! No such heavenly blessing as that. Plutus
is even shrewder than a Wall Street broker, and has a sharp eye to
his own profits. I mean that at last, after many vexatious and
grievous failures, I am promised a most eligible alliance, the
highest market price. Mr. Silas Congreve has offered me his real
estate, his stocks of various kinds, his villa at Newport, and his
fine yacht. Congratulate me."

"He gives them to you? Adopts and makes you his heiress? How very
good and kind of him, and I am so glad to hear it."

"He offers to many me, you stupid dove!"

"Not that Mr. Congreve who dined here last week, and who is so deaf?"

"That same veritable Midas. You must know he is not deaf from age; oh
no!