"Ah, but you are my friend--are partial. Will not Algernon see a
change?"

"Yes--for the better."

"I wish I could believe you. But I feel older. My heart is not so fresh
as it was; I no longer live in a dream; I see things as they really
are."

"And do you expect to find no change in your lover? The burning climate
of India is not a great beautifier."

"I can only see him as he was. If his heart remains unchanged, no
alteration in his personal appearance could shake my regard,
particularly when those changes have been incurred for my sake."

"Oh, woman, great is your faith!" said Mark, with a sigh. "Gladly would
I give my fortune to be Algernon."

Elinor started, and looked anxiously at her companion. It was the first
time he had ever alluded to his secret passion. Did he love her? The
question made Elinor tremble. She folded her letter, and turned the
conversation into another channel. But the words haunted her, "I would
give my fortune to be Algernon." Could he be in earnest? Perhaps it was
only a passing compliment--men were fond of paying such. But the Squire
was no flatterer; he seldom said what he did not mean. She re-read
Algernon's letter, and thought no more about the words that his brother
had let fall.