d other questions, for it was only now and then that I could
trace her meaning, which expressive pantomime did much to explain.

I tried to convince her that what she deemed a treasure was a mere
pittance, which a week or two would exhaust; that I was no prince, nor
had I a kingly father; "and last of all," said I, "I am not in pursuit
of a princess. But I 'll tell you what I am in search of, Catinka,--one
trusting, faithful, loving heart; one that will so unite itself to
mine as to have no joys or sorrows or cares but mine; one content to go
wherever I go, live however I live, and no matter what my faults may be,
or how meanly others think of me, will ever regard me with eyes of love
and devotion."

I had held her hand while I uttered this, gazing up into her eyes with
ecstasy, for I saw how their liquid depth appeared to move as though
about to overflow, when at last she spoke, and said,--

"And there are no pearls!"

"Poor child!" thought I, "she cannot understand one word I have been
saying. Listen to me, Catinka," said I, with a slow utterance. "Would
you give me your heart for all this treasure?"

"_Si, si!_" cried she, eagerly.

"And love me always,--forever?"

"_Si_," said she, again; but I fancied with less of energy than before.

"And when it was spent and gone, and nothing remaining of it, what would
you do?"

"Send you to gather more, _mio caro_," said she, pressing my hand to her
lips, as though in earnest of the blandishments she would bestow upon
me.

Now, I cannot affect to say that all this was very reassuring. This
poor simple child of the mountains showed a spirit as sordid and as
calculating as though she were baptized in May Fair. It was a terrible
shock to me to see this; a dire overthrow to a very fine edifice that
I was just putting the roof on! "Would Kate Herbert have made me such
a speech?" thought I. "Would she have declared herself so venal and
so worldly?--and why not? May it not be, perhaps, simply that a mere
question of good-breeding, the usages of a polite world, might have made
all the difference, and that she would have felt what poor Catinka felt
and owned to? If this were true, the advantages were all on the side
of sincerity. With honesty as the basis, what may not one build up of
character? Where there is candor there are at least no disappointments.
This poor simple child, untutored in the wiles of a scheming world,
where all is false, unreal, and deceptive, has the c