thought for the twofold offer presented to her by
her guardian, the inspiration of these sublime moments erased from her
recollection the gloomy-faced youth and the grotesque old man, both of
whom wanted to make her their wife.

Where is he now--the unknown, the unnameable, the unforgettable ideal?
Most certainly he has no idea that a heart is pining for him in secret,
in tribulation, just as the moon is quite unconscious of the lunatic who
pursues her rays and leaps across dizzy abysses in order to get nearer
to her!

How blessed the lot of those ladies of the great world who can see him
every day, speak to, admire, and honour him! Perhaps one among them is
his chosen bride! No, nobody could love him so truly, oh, so truly as
she would have done. She would never, never tell him so, but she should
love him to the death!

Why was it that she could never hope to even get near him?

Never?

Suddenly a strange thought arose in her mind. It would only cost her a
single word, and the doors of the haughtiest, the most illustrious
houses would fly open before her, and she would stand in the same rank,
in the same atmosphere as those lofty, those envied ladies who were at
liberty to behold the face and hear the voice of her adored idol.

A shudder ran through her at the thought.

Yes, this goal would be reached if she gave her hand to Karpathy. A
single step would raise her at once into this seemingly unattainable
world.

She rejected the thought, only for a moment did her soul retain it, and
then she brushed it away.

What would her good friends and kinsfolk Boltay and Teresa say, if she
refused a fine, manly, noble-hearted youth, and, for the sake of money
and splendour, accepted the hand of a dotard she did not love?

But again, there were other kinsfolk whom, if she took this step, she
could make happy, whom she could rescue from bitter shame, reproach, and
wretchedness--her mother and sisters. If she were rich, she could save
them from their horrible fate.

Yes, good damsel, yes; thou wilt have no lack of reasons, but it is no
tender regard for thy friends or thy relations which leads thee on. No;
'tis Love that goes before thee with his torch, and he will lead thee
through the worlds of good and evil--all the rest is mere fustian. Go,
then, towards thy Fate!

At last the whole house slept. Sleep on, for sleep brings with it good
counsel.

Next morning a strange surprise awaited the two old guardians. Fanny