"Oh, it was easily forgiven," she returned, naïvely. "Yes, I have met him
almost every day since then. The days I did not see him seemed to be
blanks in my life. After his first boldness, he was always courteous. He
never again became familiar, but seemed to try only to convince me of his
regard in most respectful terms, and--and I listened all too willingly,
but made no answer save what I could not conceal in my manner. That, I
fear, was answer all too plain. But now you have opened my eyes, and I
see clearly. I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay."

"If you go to court, this affair will have been a good lesson," I
returned encouragingly. "For there you must learn to despise the
proffered love of men, whether it be pretended or real, until one comes
who is worthy of you in person, wealth, and station."

"Yes, I shall," she answered earnestly. "But here we are at home. As you
suggest, let us not speak of this poor little affair."

"By no means," I answered, as I opened the gate.

"And Baron Ned," she said, holding me back for a moment, "have no fear
that I shall lose my heart at court to the detriment of my fortune. I may
not consider myself--only my father and my house. It is my duty to make
him happy, and I am going to do it without regard to any other purpose in
life. My having known Master Hamilton will not only keep other men out of
my heart, but will help me to know them and will lead me to fear them
when I go to court."

Later in the evening my cousin and I walked out in town, and I had a long
talk with her, partly concerning Hamilton, a theme to which she always