nce here worth the having. I should
call him a fool, but that one so dislikes having an imbecile in one's
family."

"The best part of life! You say he has turned his back on that." She
lets her hands fall upon her knees, and turns a frowning, perplexed, but
always lovely face to his. "What is it," asks she, "that best part?"

"Women!" returns he, slowly, undauntedly, in spite of the innocence, the
serenity, that shines in the young and exquisite face before him.

Her eyes do not fall before his. She is plainly thinking. Yes; Mr.
Hardinge was right, he will never like her. She is only a stay, a
hindrance to him!

"I understand," says she sorrowfully. "He will not care--_ever_. I shall
be always a trouble to him. He----"

"Why think of him?" says Sir Hastings contemptuously. He leans towards
her: fired by her beauty, that is now enhanced by the regret that lies
upon her pretty lips, he determines on pushing his cause at once. "If
_he_ cannot appreciate you, others can--_I_ can. I----" He pauses; for
the first time in his life, on such an occasion as this, he is conscious
of a feeling of awkwardness. To tell a woman he loves her has been the
simplest thing in the world hitherto, but now, when at last he is in
earnest--when poverty has driven him to seek marriage with an heiress as
a cure for all his ills--he finds himself tongue-tied; and not only by
the importance of the situation, so far as money goes, but by the clear,
calm, waiting eyes of Perpetua.

"Yes?" says she; and then suddenly, as if not caring for the answer she
has demanded. "You mean that he----You, _too_, think that he dislikes
me?" There is woe in the pale, small, lovely face.

"Very probably. He was always eccentric. Perfect nuisance at home. None
of us could understand him. I shouldn't in the least wonder if he had
taken a rooted aversion to you, and taken it badly too! Miss Wynter! it
quite distresses me to think that it should be _my_ brother, of all men,
who has failed to see your charm. A charm that----" He pauses
effectively, to let his really fine eyes have some play. The
conservatory is sufficiently dark to disguise the ravages that
dissipation has made upon his handsome features. He can see that
Perpetua is regarding him earnestly, and with evident interest. Already
he regards his cause as won. It is plain that the girl is attracted by
his face, as indeed she is! She is at this moment asking herself, who is
it he is like?

"You were say