at her discovery. Not one of those girls
who study every feature, every gesture, every point, till there is
not a square inch of their personality of which they are not painfully
conscious, Leam had never taken herself into artistic consideration
at all. She had been proud of her Spanish blood, of her mantilla, her
high comb and her fan; but of herself as a woman among women she knew
nothing, nor whether she was plain or pretty. Indeed, had she had to
say offhand which, she would have answered plain. The revelation which
comes sooner or later to all women of the charms they possess had not
yet come to her; and Edgar's words, making the first puncture in
her ignorance, pained her more by the shock which they gave her
self-consciousness than they pleased her by their flattery.

She said no more, but walked by his side with her head held very high
and slightly turned away. She was sorry that he had offended her. They
had been getting on together so well until he had said this foolish
thing, and now they were like friends who had quarreled. She was quite
sorry that he had been so foolish as to offend her, but she must not
forgive him--at least not just yet. It was very wrong of him to tell
her that she was prettier than the true children of the soil; and she
resented the slight to Spain and to her mother, as well as the wrong
done to herself, by his saying that which was not true. So she walked
with her little head held high, and Edgar could get nothing more out
of her. When Leam was offended coaxings to make her forget were of no
avail. She had to wear through an impression by herself, and it was
useless to try for a premature pardon.

Edgar saw that he had overshot the mark, and that his best policy now
was absence; wherefore, after a few moments' silence, he remounted his
horse, looking penitent, handsome, full of admiration and downcast.

"I hope we shall soon see you at the Hill, Miss Dundas," he said,
holding her hand in his for his farewell a little longer than was
quite necessary for good breeding or even cordiality.

"I very seldom go to the Hill," answered Leam, looking past his head.

"But you will come, and soon?" fervently.

"Perhaps: I do not know," answered Leam, still looking past his head,
and embarrassed to a most uncomfortable extent.

"Thank you," he said, as if he had been thanking her for the grace of
his life; and with a long look, lifting his hat again, he rode off,
just escaping by a few hun