e equally hard of solution. She
stood between them, her father and her brother. Their interests
conflicted, as did the duty she owed each; and her heart, her judgment,
her piety were torn two ways at once. Would it always be thus--or would
the pull of one prove conclusively the stronger? Would she be compelled
finally to choose between them? Not that either openly did or ever would
strive to coerce her. Both were honourable, both magnanimous. And, out of
her heart, she desired to serve both justly and equally--only--only--upon
youth the pull of youth is very great.

She put her hands over her eyes, shrinking, frightened. Was it possible
she loved Darcy Faircloth best?

A knocking. Damaris slipped the letter into the pocket of her dress, and
rising crossed the room and opened the door.

Hordle stood in the pale spacious corridor without. He presented Marshall
Wace's card. The gentleman, he said rather huffily, had called, bringing
a message from Mrs. Frayling as Hordle understood, which he requested to
deliver to Miss Damaris in person. He begged her to believe he was in no
hurry. If she was engaged he could perfectly well wait.--He would do so
in the hotel drawing-room, until it was convenient to her to allow him a
few minutes' conversation.

So, for the second time, this young man's intrusion proved by no means
unwelcome, as offering Damaris timely escape. She went down willingly
to receive him. Yesterday he struck her as a pleasant and agreeable
person--and of a type with which she was unacquainted. It would be
interesting to talk to him.--She felt anxious, moreover, to learn what
Henrietta, lovely if not entirely satisfactory Henrietta, could
possibly want.

CHAPTER IV

BLOWING OF ONE'S OWN TRUMPET PRACTISED AS A FINE ART

The slender little Corsican horses, red-chestnut in colour and active as
cats, trotted, with a tinkle of bells, through the barred sunshine and
shadow of the fragrant pine and cork woods. The road, turning inland,
climbed steadily, the air growing lighter and fresher as the elevation
increased--a nip in it testifying that January was barely yet out. And
that nip justified the wearing of certain afore-mentioned myrtle-green,
fur-trimmed pelisse, upon which Damaris' minor affections were, at this
period, much set. Though agreeably warm and thick, it moulded her bosom,
neatly shaped her waist, and that without any defacing wrinkle. The broad
fur band at the throat compelled her to carr