from falling at her feet in adoration. "Of francs!" continued the
marchesa.

"Francs! Ah," said Randal, with a long-drawn breath, and recovering from
his sudden enthusiasm, "about L20,000? eight hundred a year at four per
cent. A very handsome portion, certainly (Genteel poverty!" he murmured
to himself. "What an escape I have had! but I see--I see. This will
smooth all difficulties in the way of my better and earlier project.
I see),--a very handsome portion," he repeated aloud,--"not for a grand
seigneur, indeed, but still for a gentleman of birth and expectations
worthy of your choice, if ambition be not your first object. Ah, while
you spoke with such endearing eloquence of feelings that were fresh, of a
heart that was new, of the happy English home, you might guess that my
thoughts ran to my friend who loves you so devotedly, and who so realizes
your ideal. Proverbially, with us, happy marriages and happy homes are
found not in the gay circles of London fashion, but at the hearths of our
rural nobility, our untitled country gentlemen. And who, amongst all
your adorers, can offer you a lot so really enviable as the one whom, I
see by your blush, you already guess that I refer to?"

"Did I blush?" said the marchesa, with a silvery laugh. "Nay, I think
that your zeal for your friend misled you. But I will own frankly, I
have been touched by his honest ingenuous love,--so evident, yet rather
looked than spoken. I have contrasted the love that honours me with the
suitors that seek to degrade; more I cannot say. For though I grant that
your friend is handsome, high-spirited, and generous, still he is not
what--"

"You mistake, believe me," interrupted Randal. "You shall not finish
your sentence. He is all that you do not yet suppose him; for his