atter with him, Dolly?"

"The principal thing is, he won't take a hint."

"No, no; I mean, what fault do you find in him?"

"That, mother. Nothing else."

"He worships the ground you tread on."

"Mother, I think that is a pity. Don't you?"

"I think you ought to be very glad of it. I am. Dolly, the St. Legers
are _very_ well off; he is rich, and his father is rich; and there is
that beautiful place, and position, and everything you could desire."

"Position!" Dolly repeated. "Mother, I think I make my own position. At
any rate, I like it better than his."

"O Dolly! the St. Legers"----

"They are not anything particular, mother. Rich bankers; that is all."

"And isn't that enough?"

"Well, no," said Dolly, laughing. "It would take a good deal more to
tempt me away from you and father."

"But, child, you've got to go. And Mr. St. Leger is as fond of you as
ever he can be."

"He will not break his heart, mother. He is not that sort. Don't think
it."

"I don't care if he did!" said Mrs. Copley, half crying. "It is not
_him_ I am thinking of; it is you."

"Thank you, mother," said Dolly, putting her arms round her mother's
neck and kissing her repeatedly. "But I am not going to leave you for
any such person. And I don't think so much of money as you do."

"Dolly, Dolly, money is a good thing."

"There is not enough of it in the world to buy me, mother. Don't try to
fix my price."

The rest of that day Dolly was gay. Whether from the reaction of
spirits natural to seventeen, or whether she were lightened in heart by
the explicitness of her talk with her mother in the morning, she was
the life of the day's journey. The road itself mended; the landscape
was often noble, with fine oak and beech woods, and lovely in its rich
cultivation; meadows and ploughed fields and tracts of young grain and
smiling villages alternating with one another. There was no tedium in
the carriage from morning to night. St. Leger and Rupert laughed at
Dolly, and with her; and Mrs. Copley, in spite of chewing the cud of
mortification at Dolly's impracticableness, was beguiled into
forgetting herself. Sometimes this happy effect could be managed; at
other times it was impossible. But more days followed, not so gay.

"I'm as tired as I can be!" was Mrs. Copley's declaration, as they were
approaching Leipzig.

"We'll soon get to our hotel now," said Lawrence soothingly.

"'Tain't that," said Mrs. Copley; "I am tired of hotels t