at you have said; but I request you not to think so meanly of me
as to believe I would sacrifice my name and my person on the altar
of Mammon, and make a mariage de raison--the most unreasonable and
immoral union that can exist."

"Many a proud lady who once thought as you do, Francis," I answered,
"has been induced by the counsel of her friends to change her state of
'single blessedness,' which is such a mark for calumny and lies----"

"And you would have me take a husband to serve as a shield against
these?" she cried, vehemently. "No, Leopold van Zonshoven, when
you once know Francis Mordaunt, you will find she does not fear
calumniators, and that she disdains to seek protection from them in
the way you recommend!"

"Forewarned is forearmed," and I now understood that it behoved me to
proceed cautiously. Still I determined to try a ruse of war. Looking
her steadfastly in the face, I said--

"And suppose my visit to the Werve were expressly for the purpose of
seeking your hand in marriage?"

"My hand! It is not true you come with such a purpose!" she exclaimed
in a bitter tone.

"But let us suppose it to be true; what would your answer be?"

"If I thought you came with any such intentions, I should simply
leave you where you are, in the middle of the heath, to find your
way to the Werve as best you could. There's my answer."

And she started off as fast as she could go.

"Listen, Francis," I said, rejoining her. "If such had been my object
in visiting the Castle, your answer would not stop me. I am obstinate
enough myself; but, as I would not willingly wound the feelings of
any lady (pardon me the use of this word), I should take good care
not to make her an offer in such a brusque manner, and, above all,
not until I had some hopes of receiving a favourable answer."

"Be it so; but I must tell you I see neither wit nor humour in your
kind of pleasantry."

In another instant a gust of wind carried away her felt hat, and then
her net, causing her golden hair to fall over her shoulders in rich
profusion. At this moment I thought her worthy to sit for a Madonna. I
could not believe my eyes, or rather I could not remove my eyes from
her, so much was I struck with wonder and admiration. She doubtless
read her triumph in my looks, and seemed for an instant to enjoy
it. Decidedly, then, she had not lost all the feminine instincts,
though the time of their duration was short on any single occasion.

"Well," she