y idle caprice and foolish whim
were always indulged to the utmost. Among all the gentlemen whom I met
at this season, there were only two in whom I felt the least interest.
For one of them, Wainwright Angier, I had a profound regard. I knew that
he was my true friend. It was my nature to despise those whom I could
bend to my will. He had too much manly independence for this, and
conscientiously abstained from flattery. When I did wrong, he
remonstrated earnestly, and when I told him that his advice was not
solicited, looked grieved and reproachful. He was far from my ideal of
perfection, however. It is commonly supposed that people are attracted
towards their opposites, but though Wainwright Angier's character and
personal appearance differed widely from mine, yet I never dreamed, in
those days, of loving him. He was pale and intellectual looking, with
clear, penetrating eyes, and a firm, determined mouth. But his voice
was, I think, his greatest attraction for me, for I am one of the few
who take as much pleasure in an agreeable voice, as in gazing at a
beautiful face.

"The other, Geoffrey Westbourne--how shall I describe him? Tall and
commanding in figure, with glossy purple-black hair, and the midnight
eyes that matched it, he was eminently handsome, and, as everybody
agreed, a splendid conversationalist. Notwithstanding his acknowledged
superiority to all others, and the fact that he was petted and caressed
by every one, I felt an instinctive repugnance to him, that for a long
time I tried in vain to overcome. Perhaps it was because I had heard him
so highly spoken of, that I was ready to find fault. However that maybe,
I felt a secret antipathy to this man. Would I had been allowed to
follow the warning conveyed in these first impressions, what a world of
misery I had then escaped!

"'Well, how did you like him?' queried my aunt, after our first meeting.
'Isn't he splendid?'

"'Not to my taste,' was my reply. 'To tell the truth, I was not very
agreeably impressed by your Mr. Westbourne.'

"'Shocking!' exclaimed the astonished lady, with upraised hands. 'That
girl will surely be an old maid. She has no taste. Not like him, when he
is already deep in love with you? Ulrica, this is arrant coquetry.'

"She had reason to think so afterwards, for the subject of our
conversation soon became a constant visitor at the house. He _was_
handsome, talented and agreeable, besides, all my lady friends were
dying with envy