swayed a nation; a
beautiful, oval face, the features of which were perfect; a white brow,
with dark, straight eyebrows; sweet, red lips, like a cloven rose; the
most beautiful chin, with a rare dimple; an imperial face, suited for a
queen's crown or the diadem of an empress, but out of place on this
simple farm. She saw grand, sloping shoulders, beautiful arms, and a
figure that was perfect in its symmetry and grace.

She smiled contentedly. She was beautiful, undoubtedly. She was glad
that others saw it. If a young lord admired her, she must be worth
admiring. Her good humor was quite restored.

How came it that this girl, with the beauty of a young princess, was at
home in the farmhouse? It was a simple story. The farmer, Robert Noel,
had only one brother, who loved romance and travel.

Stephen Noel, after trying every profession, and every means of
obtaining a livelihood, at last decided on becoming a civil engineer; he
went to Spain to help with a rail-road in the province of Andalusia, and
there fell in love with and married a beautiful Andalusian, Pepita by
name.

Dark-eyed Pepita died on the same day Leone was born, and the young
father, distracted by his loss, took the child home to England. The old
housekeeper at the Rashleigh farm took the girl, and Robert Noel
consented that she should be brought up as a child of his own.

The two brothers differed as light and darkness differ. Stephen was all
quickness and intelligence, Robert was stolid and slow. Leone always
said it took him ten minutes to turn around. He had never married, he
had never found time; but he gave the whole love of his heart to the
beautiful dark eyed child who was brought to his house sixteen years
ago.

CHAPTER II.

"WHAT, MARRY A FARMER!"

One can imagine the sensation that a bright, beautiful eagle would
produce in a dove's nest; the presence of that beautiful, imperious
child at the farm was very much the same. People looked at her in
wonder; her beauty dazzled them; her defiance amused them. They asked
each other where all her pride came from.

Uncle Robert often said in his slow fashion that he retired from
business when Leone was seven. At that early age he gave the management
of everything into her baby hands. From the chickens in the yard to the
blue and white pigeons on the roof. She could manage him, big as he was,
with one stamp of her little foot, one flash of her bright eyes; he was
powerless at once, like a