fairly besotted. At first, he could dimly perceive her
faults, and they gave him considerable uneasiness; but now his passion
and her art together have blinded him to everything but her perfections
and his amazing good fortune. Last night he came to me brimful of his
new-found felicity:

'"Huntingdon, I am not a castaway!" said he, seizing my hand and
squeezing it like a vice. "There is happiness in store for me yet--even
in this life--she loves me!"

'"Indeed!" said I. "Has she told you so?"

'"No, but I can no longer doubt it. Do you not see how pointedly kind
and affectionate she is? And she knows the utmost extent of my poverty,
and cares nothing about it! She knows all the folly and all the
wickedness of my former life, and is not afraid to trust me--and my rank
and title are no allurements to her; for them she utterly disregards.
She is the most generous, high-minded being that can be conceived of.
She will save me, body and soul, from destruction. Already, she has
ennobled me in my own estimation, and made me three times better, wiser,
greater than I was. Oh! if I had but known her before, how much
degradation and misery I should have been spared! But what have I done
to deserve so magnificent a creature?"

'And the cream of the jest,' continued Mr. Huntingdon, laughing, 'is,
that the artful minx loves nothing about him but his title and pedigree,
and "that delightful old family seat."'

'How do you know?' said I.

'She told me so herself; she said, "As for the man himself, I thoroughly
despise him; but then, I suppose, it is time to be making my choice, and
if I waited for some one capable of eliciting my esteem and affection, I
should have to pass my life in single blessedness, for I detest you all!"
Ha, ha! I suspect she was wrong there; but, however, it is evident she
has no love for him, poor fellow.'

'Then you ought to tell him so.'

'What! and spoil all her plans and prospects, poor girl? No, no: that
would be a breach of confidence, wouldn't it, Helen? Ha, ha! Besides,
it would break his heart.' And he laughed again.

'Well, Mr. Huntingdon, I don't know what you see so amazingly diverting
in the matter; I see nothing to laugh at.'

'I'm laughing at you, just now, love,' said he, redoubling his
machinations.

And leaving him to enjoy his merriment alone, I touched Ruby with the
whip, and cantered on to rejoin our companions; for we had been walking
our horses all this time, an