of the burden of her existence than by marriage.

Marriage decidedly was what Vera had to look to. She was in no way averse
to the idea, only she intended to look at the subject from the most
practical and matter-of-fact point of view.

She was not going to render herself wretched for life by rashly
consenting to marry Mr. Gisburne, or any other equally unsuitable husband
that her friends might choose to press upon her. Vera differed in one
important respect from the vast majority of young ladies of the present
day--she had no vague and indistinct dreams as to what marriage might
bring her. She knew exactly what she wanted from it. She wanted wealth
and position, because she knew what they were and what life became
without them; and because she knew that she was utterly unfitted to be
the wife of any one but a rich man.

And therefore it was that Vera looked from the square red house behind
her over the wide gardens and broad lawns, and down the noble avenues
that spread away into the distance, and said to herself, "This is what
will suit me, to be mistress of a place like this; I should love it
dearly; I should find real happiness and pleasure in the duties that such
a position would bring me. If Sir John Kynaston comes here, it is he whom
I will marry, and none other."

As to what her feelings might be towards the man whom she thus proposed
to marry it cannot be said that Vera took them into consideration at all.
She was not, indeed, aware whether or no she possessed any feelings; they
had never incommoded her hitherto. Probably they had no existence. Such
vague fancy as had been ever roused within her had been connected with a
photograph seen once in a writing-table drawer. The photograph of Sir