mother had died young. Her father after futile attempts to guide her
steps in the right direction, finally concluded that it was better to
let her have her head; she would run away with the bit anyway. She
might break her neck, but she surely would have to learn life's
lessons in her own way, and she did.

Her family tried to make a match for her but she refused, saying, "I
want to be the captain of my own soul; I will make my own mistakes":
and she kept her word. Just seventeen, she went to visit an aunt in
New York, glowing with youth and health, with a mind full of romance
and ideals; an enthusiast, and a dreamer of dreams. She at once found
herself surrounded by devoted admirers, all rivaling with each other
in their efforts to please her. One young millionaire, finding that
she was fond of equestrian sports, offered her the pick of his
stables, whereupon the young Virginian lifted her eyes in surprise as
she said: "But where would I ride? Your little old park isn't big
enough to ride in, and the people all look as though they dropped out
of a Fifth Avenue shop window. If you would come with me for a cross
country gallop in Virginia, you would understand that I could not
possibly be interested in doing living pictures in Central Park!"

Among the hosts of Miss Wilbur's admirers there were two who
interested the young lady; one a splendid young English lawyer, rich
and handsome: the other, a young New York artist, poor but
interesting, very sincere, very intellectual and with strong
personality.

Both men had many faults, though they had their full share of fine
qualities as well. The faults that were most annoying to Miss Wilbur
in the young lawyer (whose name by the way was Glen Royce) were his