pertinacious Alfred," she said reproachfully.

"Don't say advice, dear!" corrected the other. "I only endeavored to
convince you that there must be latent tenderness beneath your
sufferance of Mr. Branch's devotion; that if you really were averse
to the thought of marrying him, you could not take pleasure in his
society or enjoy the marks of his attachment which are apparent to
you and to everybody else."

"Can't you understand," said the beauty, petulantly, "that it is one
thing to flirt with a man in public, and another to cherish his
image in private? There is no better touchstone of affection than
the holiness and calm of an hour like this. If Frederic were with
you, the scene would be the fairer, the season more sacred for its
association with thoughts of him and his love. Whereas, my Alfred's
adoring platitudes would disgust me with the sunset, with the world,
and with myself, for permitting him to haunt my presence and hang
upon my smile--foppish barnacle that he is! If you knew how I
despise myself sometimes!"

"Dear Rosa! I shall never try again to persuade that you care for
him as a woman should for the man GOD intended her to marry. But why
not act worthily of yourself--justly to him, and reject him
decidedly?"

"Because"--her face shrewd and wilful as it had been sorrowful just
now--"I am by no means certain that I can do better than to marry
him. He is rich, good-looking (so people say!), well-born,
gentlemanly, and pleasant of temper. An imposing array of
advantages, you see! I might go further, and fare very much worse.