st perfect,--and all his own. "But,
Frank,"--she had already been taught to call him Frank when they were
alone together,--"what will come of all this about Lizzie Eustace?"

"They will be married,--of course."

"Do you think so? I am sure Lady Fawn doesn't think so."

"What Lady Fawn thinks on such a matter cannot be helped. When a man
asks a woman to marry him, and she accepts, the natural consequence
is that they will be married. Don't you think so?"

"I hope so,--sometimes," said Lucy, with her two hands joined upon
his arm, and hanging to it with all her little weight.

"You really do hope it?" he said.

"Oh, I do; you know I do. Hope it! I should die if I didn't hope it."

"Then why shouldn't she?" He asked his question with a quick, sharp
voice, and then turned upon her for an answer.

"I don't know," she said, very softly, and still clinging to him. "I
sometimes think there is a difference in people."

"There is a difference; but, still, we hardly judge of people
sufficiently by our own feelings. As she accepted him, you may be
sure that she wishes to marry him. She has more to give than he has."

"And I have nothing to give," she said.

"If I thought so, I'd go back even now," he answered. "It is because
you have so much to give,--so much more than most others,--that I
have thought of you, dreamed of you as my wife, almost ever since I
first knew you."

"I have nothing left to give," she said. "What I ever had is all
given. People call it the heart. I think it is heart, and brain, and
mind, and body,--and almost soul. But, Frank, though Lizzie Eustace
is your cousin, I don't want to be likened to her. She is very
clever, and beautiful,--and has a way with her that I know is
charming;--but--"

"But what, Lucy?"

"I don't think she cares so much as some people. I dare say she likes
Lord Fawn very well, but I do not believe she loves him as I love
you."

"They're engaged," said Frank, "and the best thing they can do is to
marry each other. I can tell you this, at any rate,"--and his manner
again became serious,--"if Lord Fawn behaves ill to her, I, as her
cousin, shall take her part."

"You don't mean that you'll--fight him!"

"No, my darling. Men don't fight each other now-a-days;--not often,
at least, and Fawn and I are not of the fighting sort. I can make him
understand what I mean and what others will mean without fighting
him. He is making a paltry excuse."

"But why should he want to