k her heart."

"No, she won't. I am a physician, and I know. Hearts never break, except
in women's novels. They're the toughest part of the human anatomy."

"What a consolating thought! And you really advise me to throw over
Kate, and take to my bosom the fair, the fascinating Rose?"

"You couldn't do better."

"Wouldn't there be the deuce to pay if I did, though, with that
fire-eating father of hers? I should have my brains blown out before the
honey-moon was ended."

"I don't see why, so that you marry one of his daughters, how can it
matter to him which? With a viscount and a baronet at the feet of the
peerless Kate, he ought to be glad to be rid of you."

"It seems to me, Doctor Danton, you talk uncommonly plain English."

"Is it too plain? I'll stop if you say so."

"Oh, no. Pray continue. It does me good. And, besides, I don't know but
that I agree with you."

"I thought you did. I have thought so for some time."

"Were you jealous, Doctor? You used to be rather attentive to Rose, if I
remember rightly."

"Fearfully jealous; but where is the use? She gave me my _coup de conge_
long ago. That I am still alive, and talking to you is the most
convincing proof I can give that hearts do not break."

"After all," said Stanford, "I don't believe you ever were very far gone
with Rose. My stately fiancee suits you better. If I take you at your
word, and she rejects the baronet and the viscount, you might try your
luck."

"It would be worse than useless. I might as well love some bright,
particular star, and hope to win it, as Miss Danton. Ah! here she
comes!"

Leaning on the arm of Lord Ellerton, Miss Danton came up smilingly.

"Are you two plotting treason, that you sit there with such solemn faces
all the evening?" she asked.

"You have guessed it," replied her lover; "it is treason. Doctor, I'll
think of what you have been saying."

He arose. Lord Ellerton resigned his fair companion to her rightful
owner, and returned to Rose, who was looking over a book of beauty; and
Doctor Danton went over to Eeny, who was singing to herself at the
piano, and listened, with an odd little smile, to her song:

"Smile again, my dearest love,
Weep not that I leave you;
I have chosen now to rove--
Bear it, though it grieve you.
See! the sun, and moon, and stars,
Gleam the wide world over,
Whether near, or whether far,
On your loving rover.

"And the sea has ebb and f