hether they ever really tell their thoughts and longings to each
other."

"Are women more communicative?"

"Yes;--certainly. What is there that I would not tell you if you
cared to hear it? Every thought I have is open to you if you choose
to read it. I have that feeling regarding you that I would keep
nothing back from you. Oh, Frank, if you understood me, you could
save me,--I was going to say--from all unhappiness."

She did it so well that he would have been more than man had he not
believed some of it. She was sitting almost upright now, though her
feet were still on the sofa, and was leaning over towards him, as
though imploring him for his aid, and her eyes were full of tears,
and her lips were apart as though still eager with the energy of
expression, and her hands were clasped together. She was very lovely,
very attractive, almost invincible. For such a one as Frank Greystock
opposition to her in her present mood was impossible. There are men
by whom a woman, if she have wit, beauty, and no conscience, cannot
be withstood. Arms may be used against them, and a sort of battle
waged, against which they can raise no shield,--from which they can
retire into no fortress,--in which they can parry no blow. A man so
weak and so attacked may sometimes run; but even the poor chance of
running is often cut off from him. How unlike she was to Lucy! He
believed her,--in part; and yet that was the idea that occurred to
him. When Lucy was much in earnest, in her eye, too, a tear would
sparkle, the smallest drop, a bright liquid diamond that never fell;
and all her face would be bright and eloquent with feeling;--but how
unlike were the two! He knew that the difference was that between
truth and falsehood;--and yet he partly believed the falsehood! "If I
knew how to save you from an hour's uneasiness, I would do it," he
said.

"No;--no;--no;" she murmured.

"Would I not? You do not know me then." He had nothing further to
say, and it suited her to remain silent for the moment, while she
dried her eyes, and recovered her composure, and prepared herself
to carry on the battle with a smile. She would carry on the battle,
using every wile she knew, straining every nerve to be victorious,
encountering any and all dangers, and yet she had no definite aim
before her. She herself did not know what she would be at. At this
period of her career she did not want to marry her cousin,--having
resolved that she would be Lady Fawn. Nor