ling
on her little slender figure. She is sitting in a big armchair, all in
black--as he best knows her--with a book upon her knee. She looks
charming, and fresh as a new-born flower. Evidently neither last night's
party nor to-day's afternoon have had power to dim her beauty. Sleep had
visited _her_ last night, at all events.

She springs out of her chair, and throws her book on the table near her.

"Why, you are the very last person I expected," says she.

"No doubt," says the professor. Who was the _first_ person she has
expected? And will Hardinge be here presently to plead his cause in
person? "But it was imperative I should come. There is something I have
to tell you--to lay before you."

"Not a mummy, I trust," says she, a little flippantly.

"A proposal," says the professor, coldly. "Much as I know you dislike
the idea, still; it was your poor father's wish that I should, in a
measure, regulate your life until your coming of age. I am here to-day
to let you know--that--Mr. Hardinge has requested me to tell you that
he----"

The professor pauses, feeling that he is failing miserably. He, the
fluent speaker at lectures, and on public platforms, is now bereft of
the power to explain one small situation.

"What's the matter with Mr. Hardinge," asks Perpetua, "that he can't
come here himself? Nothing serious, I hope?"

"I am your guardian," says the professor--unfortunately, with all the
air of one profoundly sorry for the fact declared, "and he wishes _me_
to tell you that he--is desirous of marrying you."

Perpetua stares at him. Whatever bitter thoughts are in her mind, she
conceals them.

"He is a most thoughtful young man," says she, blandly. "And--and you're
another."

"I hope I am thoughtful, if I am not young," says the professor, with
dignity. Her manner puzzles him. "With regard to Hardinge, I wish you to
know that--that I--have known him for years, and that he is in my
opinion a strictly honorable, kind-hearted man. He is of good family. He
has money. He will probably succeed to a baronetcy--though this is not
_certain_, as his uncle is, comparatively speaking, young still. But,
even without the title, Hardinge is a man worthy of any woman's esteem,
and confidence, and----"

He is interrupted by Miss Wynter's giving way to a sudden burst of
mirth. It is mirth of the very angriest, but it checks him the more
effectually, because of that.

"You must place great confidence in princes!" says s