f your talents."

"I must marry my cousin?" questioned Noel.

"Yes, that is imperative."

"What is she like?"

"Oh, she is like herself, no one else I ever saw. I'm not good at
descriptions, especially of ladies. She has yellow hair, I can tell you
that."

"Yellow hair--yes, yes; but her disposition, her character? Is she
amiable?"

"Well, I don't think that amiable is quite the word to apply to Lady
Margaret. She is self-reliant, sensible, a thorough woman of business,
and the very one to help you on in the world."

"Oh, indeed; but if I ever possess Dunmorton I shall be helped on
enough."

"What! have you no wish for more? Would you not like to go into
Parliament to make a name for yourself? Your cousin could help you in
that. They say she used to write all her father's speeches, and very good
speeches they were."

"And Marie Gourdon?" said Noel slowly. "What of her? How can I leave
her?"

"Oh, nonsense!" said the little lawyer impatiently; "really I wonder at a
man of your sense hesitating in such a matter. This Marie will get over
it; all girls do. It's only a matter of time. She'll forget all about you
in a month."

Noel's thoughts went back to the scene on the beach two evenings ago,
and he did not consider it at all probable that Marie Gourdon would ever
forget him. At any rate, he did not care to entertain the possibility.

"Yes," went on Webster, "I don't see that you can have any hesitation.
Here you are, at the opening of your life, offered one of the finest
chances I ever heard of, hesitating because of a little French girl.
Umph! I've no patience with you, but, young man, you've got to decide
before to-morrow's mail goes out. I must write to Lady McAllister.
Good-bye I'm going for a walk to the light-house. The keeper is a most
interesting man, and a great mathematician. Good-bye. I hope next time
I see you you'll have come to your senses."

And Webster walked off, evidently imagining that there could be no
hesitation about the matter of the inheritance.

The whole of that day was a miserable failure to Noel McAllister. He had
one of those natures which hate making a decision. He was restless, and
could settle down to nothing, and walked up and down his mother's little
verandah like a caged animal. He could not bear the thought of giving up
Marie, yet, on the other hand, he could not bear the thought of giving up
his inheritance. It was too tempting. To leave forever the monotony of a
li