her
misfortunes may be in store for me, be assured your memory will
always be my greatest--possibly my only--treasure."

"What can he mean?" says Molly, looking up. She does not appear
grieved; she is simply indignant. An angry crimson flames on her fair
cheeks.

"Quixotism!" says Cecil, when she, too, has read the letter. "Was there
ever such a silly boy?"

"Oh! it is worse than anything,--so cold, so terse, so stupid. And not
an affectionate word all through, or a single regret."

"My dear child, that is its only redeeming point. He is evidently
sincere in his desire for martyrdom. Had he gone into heroics I should
myself have gone to Ireland (where I suppose he soon must be) to
chastise him. But as it is---- Poor Tedcastle! He looks upon it as a
point of honor."

"It is unbearable," says Molly, angrily. "Does he think such a paltry
thing as money could interfere with my affection for him?"

"Molly, beware! You are bordering on the heroics now. Money is not a
paltry thing; it is about the best thing going. _I_ can sympathize
with Tedcastle if you cannot. He felt he had no right to claim the
promise of such a transcendently beautiful being as you, now you have
added to your other charms twenty thousand a year. He thinks of your
future; he acknowledges you a bride worthy any duke in the land (men in
love"--maliciously--"_will_ dote, you know); he thinks of the
world and its opinion, and how fond they are of applying the word
'fortune-hunter' when they get the chance, and it is not a pretty
sobriquet."

"He should have thought of nothing but me. Had he come into a fortune,"
says Molly, severely, "I should have been delighted, and I should have
married him instantly."

"Quite so. But who ever heard the opprobrious term 'fortune-hunter'
given to a woman? It is the legitimate thing for us to sell ourselves
as dearly as we can."

"But, Cecil,"--forlornly,--"what am I to do now?"

"If you will take my advice, nothing,--for two or three weeks. He
cannot sail for India before then, and do his best. Preserve an
offended silence. Then obtain an interview with him by fair means, or,
if not, by foul."

"You unscrupulous creature!" Molly says, smiling; but after a little
reflection she determines to abide by her friend's counsel. "Horrible,
hateful letter," she says, tearing it up and throwing it out of the
window. "I wish I had never read you. I am happier now you are gone."

"So am I. It was villainously w