say; and if they go out, so must you."

"Why must you?" asked Tony.

"For the reason that the well-bred dog went downstairs when he saw
certain preparations that betokened kicking him down.

"After all, I think a new colony and the gold-fields the real
thing,--the glorious independence of it; you live how you like, and
with whom you like. No Mrs. Grundy to say, 'Do you know who dined with
Skeffington Darner yesterday?' 'Did you remark the young woman who sat
beside him in his carriage?' and such-like."

"But you cannot be always sure of your nuggets," muttered Tony. "I 've
seen fellows come back poorer than they went."

"Of course you have; it's not every horse wins the Derby, old boy. And
I'll tell you another thing, too; the feeling, the instinct, the inner
consciousness that you carry success in your nature, is a rarer and a
higher gift than the very power to succeed. You meet with clever fellows
every day in the week who have no gauge of their own cleverness. To give
an illustration; you write a book, we'll say."

"No, I don't," blurted out Tony.

"Well, but you might; it is at least possible."

"It is not."

"Well, let us take something else. You are about to try something that
has a great reward attached to it, if successful; you want, we
'll suppose, to marry a woman of high rank and large fortune, very
beautiful,--in fact, one to whom, according to every-day notions, you
have not the slightest pretensions. Is n't that a strong case, eh?"

"Worse than the book. Perhaps I 'd better try authorship," said Tony,
growing very red; "but make the case your own, and I 'll listen just as
attentively."

"Well, here goes; I have only to draw on memory," said he, with a sigh;
"I suppose you don't remember seeing in the papers, about a year and a
half ago, that the Prince of Cobourg Cohari--not one of our Cobourgs,
but an Austrian branch--came over to visit the Queen. He brought
his daughter Olga with him; she was called Olga after the Empress
of Russia's sister. And such a girl! She was nearly as tall as you,
Tony,--I'll swear she was,--with enormous blue eyes, and masses of fair
hair that she wore in some Russian fashion that seemed as if it had
fallen loose over her neck and shoulders. And were n't they shoulders!
I do like a large woman! a regular Cleopatra,--indolent, voluptuous,
dreamy. I like the majestic languor of their walk; and there is a
massive grandeur in their slightest gesture that is very imposin