. He won't marry beauty, because he thinks too much about
it. He adores so many lovely faces, that he is never sure for
twenty-four hours which of them he admires most, bar the fact that, as
in the case of fruit trees, the unattainable are usually the most
desired. He won't marry goodness--virtue--worth--whatever you choose to
call the sterling qualities of character--because in all these the
Honourable Jane Champion is his ideal, and she is too sensible a woman
to tie such an epicure to her plain face. Besides, she considers
herself his grandmother, and doesn't require him to teach her to suck
eggs. But Garth Dalmain, poor boy, is so sublimely lacking in
self-consciousness that he never questions whether he can win his
ideal. He possesses her already in his soul, and it will be a fearful
smack in the face when she says 'No,' as she assuredly will do, for
reasons aforesaid. These three days, while he has been playing around
with me, and you and other dear match-making old donkeys have gambolled
about us, and made sure we were falling in love, he has been
worshipping the ground she walks on, and counting the hours until he
should see her walk on it again. He enjoyed being with me more than
with the other girls, because I understood, and helped him to work all
conversations round to her, and he knew, when she arrived here, I could
be trusted to develop sudden anxiety about you, or have important
letters to write, if she came in sight. But that is all there will ever
be between me and Garth Dalmain; and if you had a really careful regard
for my young affections you would drop your false set on the marble
wash-stand, or devise some other equally false excuse for our immediate
departure for town to-morrow.--And now, dear, don't stay to argue;
because I have said exactly all there is to say on the subject, and a
little more. And try to toddle to bed without telling me of which cute
character in Dickens I remind you, because I am cuter than any of them,
and if I stay in this tight frock another second I can't answer for the
consequences.--Oui, Josephine, entrez!--Good-night, dear aunt. Happy
dreams!"

But after her maid had left her, Pauline switched off the electric
light and, drawing back the curtain, stood for a long while at her
window, looking out at the peaceful English scene bathed in moonlight.
At last she murmured softly, leaning her beautiful head against the
window frame:

"I stated your case well, but you didn't