ife!" cried the devoted lover with much fervour.

"Of course! That is the usual romantic answer to make. Well, why do you
not tell Diana so, with any pretty additions your fancy suggests?"

"She might not listen to me," said this doubting lover dolefully.

"Very true," replied his consoler. "On the other hand, she might.
Besides, Mr. Denzil, however much the world may have altered since my
youth, I have yet to learn that it is the lady's part to propose to the
gentleman."

"But, Miss Barbar, I am poor!"

"What of that? Diana is rich."

"Don't I know it? For that very reason I hesitate to ask her."

"Because you are afraid of being called a fortune-hunter, I suppose,"
said the old lady drily. "That shows a lack of moral courage which is
not worthy of you, Mr. Denzil. Take an old woman's advice, young man,
and put your fortunes to the test. Remember Montrose's advice in the
song."

"You approve of my marrying Diana--I mean Miss Vrain?"

"From what I have seen of you, and from what Diana has told me about
you, I could wish her no better husband. Poor girl! After the tragical
death of her father, and her wretched life with that American woman, she
deserves a happy future."

"And do you think--do you really think that she--that she--would be
happy with--with me?" stammered Lucian, hardly daring to believe Miss
Priscilla, whose acquaintance with him seemed too recent to warrant such
trust.

The wise old woman laughed and nodded.

"Ask her yourself, my dear," she said, patting his hand. "She will be
able to answer that question better than I. Besides, girls like to say
'yea' or 'nay,' themselves."

This seemed to be good advice, and certainly none could have been more
grateful to the timid lover. That very night he made up his mind to risk
his fortunes by speaking to Diana. It was no easy matter for the young
man to bring himself to do so, for cool, bold, and fluent as he was on
ordinary occasions, the fever of love rendered him shy and nervous. The
looks of Diana acted on his spirits as the weather does on a barometer.
A smile made him jocund and hilarious, a frown abashed him almost to
gloom. And in the April weather of her presence he was as variable as a
weather-cock. It is, therefore, little to be wondered at that one
ordinarily daring should tremble to ask a question which might be
answered in the negative. True, Miss Barbar's partisanship heartened him
a trifle, but he still feared for the result. Cupid,