poor Pamela could have been. Your figure is perfect, and you have
eyes like a Syrian, instead of a commonplace English woman. I am going
to give you a rose-pink satin dress. Rose-pink is just your shade, and
some day, when we go out together, I will lend you some of my diamonds."

After this whimsical manner she lavished presents upon her whenever she
had a new fancy. In truth, her generosity was constitutional, and she
had been generous enough toward Pamela, but she had never been so
extravagant as she was with Theodora. Theodora was an actual beauty, of
an uncommon type, in the face of her ignorance of manners and customs.
Pamela had never, at her best, been more than a delicately pretty girl.

In the meantime, Denis Oglethorpe made friendly calls as usual, and
always meeting Theodora, found her very pleasant to talk to and look at.
He found out her enthusiastic admiration for the poetic effusions of his
youth, and in consideration thereof, good-humoredly presented her with a
copy of the volume, with some very witty verses written on the fly-leaf
in a flourishing hand. It was worth while to amuse Theodora, she was so
pretty and unassuming in her delight at his carelessly-amiable efforts
for her entertainment. She was only a mere child after all at sixteen,
with Downport in the background; so he felt quite honestly at ease in
being attentive to her girlish requirements. Better that he should amuse
her than that she should be left to the mercy of men who would perhaps
have the execrable taste to spoil her pretty childish ways with
flattery.

"Don't let all these fine people and fine speeches turn your head,
Theodora," he would say, in a tone that might either have been jest or
earnest. "They spoiled me in my infancy, and my unfortunate experience
causes me to warn you."

But whether he jested or not, Theo was always inclined to listen to him
with some degree of serious belief. She took his advice when it was
proffered, and regarded his wisdom as the wisdom of an oracle. Who
should know better than he what was right? His indifference to the rule
of opinion could only be the result of conscious perfection, and his
careless satires were to her the most brilliant of witticisms. He paid
her his first compliment the night the rose-colored satin-dress came
home.

They were going to see Faust together with Lady Throckmorton, and she
had finished dressing early, and came down to the drawing-room, and
there Denis found her w