n those
that poor Lumley Ferrers, breathes for Florence Lascelles."

Florence was startled and melted--the whole tone and manner of Lumley
were so different from those he usually assumed. She warmly returned the
pressure of his hand, and thanked him briefly, but with emotion.

"No one is great and good enough for you, Florence," continued
Ferrers--"no one. But I admire your disinterested and generous choice.
Maltravers and I have not been friends lately; but I respect him, as all
must. He has noble qualities, and he has great ambition. In addition to
the deep and ardent love that you cannot fail to inspire, he will owe
you eternal gratitude. In this aristocratic country, your hand secures
to him the most brilliant fortunes, the most proud career. His talents
will now be measured by a very different standard. His merits will not
pass through any subordinate grades, but leap at once into the highest
posts; and, as he is even more proud than ambitious, how he must bless
one who raises him, without effort, into positions of eminent command!"

"Oh, he does not think of such worldly advantages--he, the too pure,
the too refined!" said Florence, with trembling eagerness. "He has no
avarice, nothing mercenary in his nature!"

"No; there you indeed do him justice,--there is not a particle of
baseness in his mind--I did not say there was. The very greatness of
his aspirations, his indignant and scornful pride, lift him above the
thought of your wealth, your rank,--except as means to an end."

"You mistake still," said Florence, faintly smiling, but turning pale.

"No," resumed Ferrers, not appearing to hear her, and as if pursuing
his own thoughts. "I always predicted that Maltravers would make a
distinguished connection in marriage. He would not permit himself to
love the lowborn or the poor. His affections are in his pride as much
as in his heart. He is a great creature--you have judged wisely--and may
Heaven bless you!"

With these words, Ferrers left her, and Florence, when she descended to
dinner, wore a moody and clouded brow. Ferrers stayed three days at
the house. He was peculiarly cordial to Maltravers, and spoke little to
Florence. But that little never failed to leave upon her mind a jealous
and anxious irritability, to which she yielded with morbid facility. In
order perfectly to understand Florence Lascelles, it must be remembered
that, with all her dazzling qualities, she was not what is called a
lovable pers