hand, and the slaves of the lamp, as the Orientals
say, would drop into it all the jewels of the universe. Success in
politics, poetry, law, or letters--the choice lay with me, but the
event was certain whichever I should select. Well, my father died--his
property was absorbed by his debts--I was left with an orphan sister
to struggle with the world.

"I arranged our affairs--we had a small competence after all debts
were paid. We live yonder in a small cottage, and in half an hour I
shall be there. I seldom take these strolls. Half my time is
study--the rest, work upon our small plot of ground. This was
necessary to prepare you for what I have to say.

"I had never been in love until I was twenty-four and a half--that is
to say, half a year ago. But one day I saw upon a race-course a young
girl who strongly attracted my attention, and I went home thinking of
her. I did not know her name, but I recognised in her bright, frank,
bold face--it was almost bold--that clear, strong nature which has
ever had an inexpressible charm for me. I had studied that strange
volume called Woman, and had easily found out this fact: that the
wildest and most careless young girls are often far more delicate,
feminine, and innocent than those whose eyes are always demurely cast
down, and whose lips are drawn habitually into a prudish and prim
reserve. Do you understand my awkward words?"

"Yes," said the boy quietly.

"Well," pursued Mowbray, "in forty-eight hours the dream of my life
was to find and woo that woman. I instinctively felt that she would
make me supremely happy--that the void which every man feels in his
heart, no matter what his love for relatives may be, could be filled
by this young girl alone--that she would perfect my life. Very
well--now listen, Charles."

"Yes," said the boy, in a low tone.

"I became acquainted with her--for when did a lover ever fail to
discover the place which contained his mistress?--and I found that
this young girl whom I had fallen so deeply in love with was a great
heiress."

"Unhappy chance!" exclaimed the boy; "I understand easily that this
threw an ignoble obstacle in the way. Her friends----"

"No--there you are mistaken, Charles," said Mowbray "the obstacle was
from herself."

"Did she not love you?"

Mowbray smiled sadly.

"You say that in a tone of great surprise," he replied; "there is
scarcely ground for such astonishment."

"I should think any woman might love you," mu