"Did your verses really and plainly declare love, and in your own
person?"

"Why, the sentiment was veiled, perhaps--put into the mouth of a
fictitious character, or conveyed in an allegory."

"Oh," ejaculated Ferrers, thinking it very likely that the gorgeous
Florence, hymned by a thousand bards, had done little more than cast a
glance over the lines that had cost poor Cesarini such anxious toil, and
inspired him with such daring hope. "Oh!--and to-night she was more
severe--she is a terrible coquette, /la belle Florence/! But perhaps
you have a rival."

"I feel it--I saw it--I know it."

"Whom do you suspect?"

"That accursed Maltravers! He crosses me in every path--my spirit
quails beneath his whenever we encounter. I read my doom."

"If it be Maltravers," said Ferrers, gravely, "the danger cannot be
great. Florence has seen but little of him, and he does not admire her
much; but she is a great match, and he is ambitious. We must guard
against this betimes, Cesarini--for know that I dislike Maltravers as
much as you do, and will cheerfully aid you in any plan to blight his
hopes in that quarter."

"Generous, noble friend!--yet he is richer, better-born than I."

"That may be: but to one in Lady Florence's position, all minor grades