offer me Master Jock
as a husband. What do you mean by it?"

Master Boltay was delighted. He laughed till the tears ran down his
cheeks. Then the cast-iron truisms of ancient experience were false
after all, and it was possible to find one childish soul strong enough
to reject the dazzling allurements of wealth, even when it had only to
stretch out its hand and find power at the tips of its fingers along
with an engagement-ring!

"Look now!" replied Master Boltay; "the gentleman left this ring with
me, and I am to send it back in case you reject his offer."

"Did he give you a basket with it?" inquired the roguish damsel.

"No need of that; I knew how it would turn out," replied Boltay,
laughing.

And, indeed, he was beside himself with joy. His sorrow for Alexander
was quite obliterated by the delight he felt that his ward should have
exhibited such strength of mind. He pictured to himself how proud he
would feel to be able to say to the magnate, "You promised to give a
million and a half for the roses on my ward's cheeks, did you? Thank
you, but I'll not part with her even at that price." How high he would
hold his head before those young dandies who fancied they could buy
Fanny's love for a few shameful thousands of florins, wretched beggars
that they were!

So the two old people kissed the girl and bade her good night, and they
all went to their several rooms. The night was far advanced; it was time
to lie down, and yet it was no time for sleeping. Some unruly spirit was
about who chased slumber from everybody's eyes.

Master Boltay's brain was chock-full of all the speeches that he meant
to make here, there, and everywhere as if he were preparing to be the
mouth-piece of the whole town. Teresa's mind was wandering among the
events of the present and the past, trying to throw light upon all the
manifold contradictions of a young maiden's heart, and find out how much
therein was good or bad, instinct or free will.

But it was from Fanny's eyes that the genius of slumber kept furthest
away.

Only one thought, one idea now lived in her heart--the face of that man
whom she loved, whose shape she crowned with the flowers of her
devotion, whom she pictured to herself as noble, grand, and glorious,
with the memory of whom her heart was full, whose smiling figure she
always conjured up before her when no living face was near her, and oh,
then, how good it was to rest in its contemplation!

She had no longer a