attention, she lifted it with the tips of the others, and looked at
the smooth and tapering member for a long time.

She whispered idly, 'I wonder who and what he will be?

'If he's a gentleman of fashion, he will take my finger so, just
with the tips of his own, and with some fluttering of the heart, and
the least trembling of his lip, slip the ring so lightly on that I
shall hardly know it is there--looking delightfully into my eyes all
the time.

'If he's a bold, dashing soldier, I expect he will proudly turn
round, take the ring as if it equalled her Majesty's crown in value,
and desperately set it on my finger thus. He will fix his eyes
unflinchingly upon what he is doing--just as if he stood in battle
before the enemy (though, in reality, very fond of me, of course),
and blush as much as I shall.

'If he's a sailor, he will take my finger and the ring in this way,
and deck it out with a housewifely touch and a tenderness of
expression about his mouth, as sailors do: kiss it, perhaps, with a
simple air, as if we were children playing an idle game, and not at
the very height of observation and envy by a great crowd saying,
"Ah! they are happy now!"

'If he should be rather a poor man--noble-minded and affectionate,
but still poor--'

Owen's footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs, interrupted this
fancy-free meditation. Reproaching herself, even angry with herself