later, drives one to compromise with happiness, and take a part of what you
once aspired to the whole.'

'You used to think very highly of Mr. Walpole; admired, and I suspect you
liked him.'

'All true--my opinion is the same still. He will stand the great test that
one can go into the world with him and not be ashamed of him. I know,
dearest, even without that shake of the head, the small value you attach
to this, but it is a great element in that droll contract, by which one
person agrees to pit his temper against another's, and which we are told
is made in heaven, with angels as sponsors. Mr. Walpole is sufficiently
good-looking to be prepossessing, he is well bred, very courteous,
converses extremely well, knows his exact place in life, and takes it
quietly but firmly. All these are of value to his wife, and it is not easy
to over-rate them.'

'Is that enough?'

'Enough for what? If you mean for romantic love, for the infatuation that
defies all change of sentiment, all growth of feeling, that revels in the
thought, experience will not make us wiser, nor daily associations less
admiring, it is not enough. I, however, am content to bid for a much
humbler lot. I want a husband who, if he cannot give me a brilliant
station, will at least secure me a good position in life, a reasonable
share of vulgar comforts, some luxuries, and the ordinary routine of what
are called pleasures. If, in affording me these, he will vouchsafe to add
good temper, and not high spirits--which are detestable--but fair spirits,
I think I can promise him, not that I shall make him happy, but that he
will make himself so, and it will afford me much gratification to see it.'

'Is this real, or--'

'Or what? Say what was on your lips.'

'Or are you utterly heartless?' cried Kate, with an effort that covered her
face with blushes.

'I don't think I am,' said she oddly and calmly; 'but all I have seen of
life teaches me that every betrayal of a feeling or a sentiment is like
what gamblers call showing your hand, and is sure to be taken advantage of
by the other players. It's an ugly illustration, dear Kate, but in the same
round game we call life there is so much cheating that if you cannot afford
to be pillaged, you must be prudent.'

'I am glad to feel that I can believe you to be much better than you make
yourself.'

'Do so, and as long as you can.'

There was a pause of several moments after this, each apparently following
out he