relationship--the fortune that should have been Lord Vargrave's, in the
belief that my hand would restore it to him. It is almost a fraud to
refuse him. Am I not to be pitied?"

"But why can you not love Lord Vargrave? If past the _premiere
jeunesse_, he is still handsome. He is more than handsome,--he has the
air of rank, an eye that fascinates, a smile that wins, the manners that
please, the abilities that command, the world! Handsome, clever,
admired, distinguished--what can woman desire more in her lover, her
husband? Have you ever formed some fancy, some ideal of the one you
could love, and how does Lord Vargrave fall short of the vision?"

"Have I ever formed an ideal?--oh, yes!" said Evelyn, with a beautiful
enthusiasm that lighted up her eyes, blushed in her cheek, and heaved her
bosom beneath its robe; "something that in loving I could also revere,--a
mind that would elevate my own; a heart that could sympathize with my
weakness, my follies, my romance, if you will; and in which I could
treasure my whole soul."

"You paint a schoolmaster, not a lover!" said Caroline. "You do not
care, then, whether this hero be handsome or young?"

"Oh, yes, he should be both," said Evelyn, innocently; "and yet," she
added, after a pause, and with an infantine playfulness of manner and
countenance, "I know you will laugh at me, but I think I could be in love
with more than one at the same time!"

"A common case, but a rare confession!"

"Yes; for if I might ask for the youth and outward advantages that please