"There is the broad day-light of mere animal spirits," he went
on, seeming rather to be suggesting these things for her
consideration than eager to set forth any opinions of his own
— "there is the sparkling of mischief, and the fire of hidden
passions — there is the passing brilliance of wit, as
satisfactory and resting as these gaslights — and there is now
and then the light of refined affections out of a heart
unspotted from the world, as pure and abiding as the stars,
and, like them, throwing its soft ray especially upon the
shadows of life."

"I have always understood," said Constance, "that cat's eyes
are brightest in the dark."

"They do not love the light, I believe," said Mr. Carleton,
calmly.

"Well," said Constance, not relishing the expression of her
companion's eye, which, from glowing, had suddenly be come
cool and bright — "where would you put me, Mr. Carleton, among
all these illuminators of the social system?"

"You may put yourself — where you please, Miss Constance," he
said, again turning upon her an eye so deep and full in its
meaning, that her own and her humour fell before it; for a
moment she looked most unlike the gay scene around her.

"Is not that the best brightness," he said speaking low, "that
will last forever? — and is not that lightness of heart best
worth having which does not depend on circumstances, and will