ravages that dissipation has made upon his handsome features. He can
see that Perpetua is regarding him earnestly, and with evident
interest. Already he regards his cause as won. It is plain that the
girl is attracted by his face, as indeed she is! She is at this
moment asking herself, who is it he is like?

"You were saying?" says she dreamily.

"That the charm you possess, though of no value in the eyes of your
guardian, is, to _me,_ indescribably attractive. In fact--I----"

A second pause, meant to be even more effective.

Perpetua turns her gaze more directly upon him. It occurs to her
that he is singularly dull, poor man.

"Go on," says she. She nods her head at him with much encouragement.

Her encouragement falls short. Sir Hastings, who had looked for
girlish confusion, is somewhat disconcerted by this open patronage.

"May I" says he--"You _permit_ me then to tell you what I have so
long feared to disclose. I"--dramatically--_"love you!"_

He is standing over her, his hand on the back of her chair, waiting
for the swift blush, the tremor, the usual signs that follow on one
of his declarations. Alas! there is no blush now, no tremor, no sign
at all.

"That is very good of you," says Perpetua, in an even tone. She