all back upon prerogative--" began Sir William.

"I have never quitted it It is in the sovereignty of my woman's will
that I reconcile opinions seemingly adverse, and can enjoy all the
splendors of a capital and all the tameness of a village. I showed you
already how I could appreciate Paris; I mean now to prove how charmed I
can be with the solitudes of Marlia."

"Which says, in plain English," said the young man, "that you don't care
for either."

"Will you condescend to be a little more gallant than my cousin, sir,"
said she, turning to Sir William, "and at least give me credit for
having a mind and knowing it?"

There was a pettish half-seriousness in her tone that made it almost
impossible to say whether she was amused or angry, and to this also the
changeful expression of her beautiful features contributed; for,
though she smiled, her dark gray eyes sparkled like one who invited a
contradiction. In this fleeting trait was the secret of her nature. May
Leslie was one of Fortune's spoiled children,--one of those upon whom
so many graces and good gifts had been lavished that it seemed as though
Fate had exhausted her resources, and left herself no more to bestow.

She had surpassing beauty, youth, health, high spirits, and immense
wealth. By her father's will she had been contracted in marriage with
her distant relative, Charles Heathcote, with the proviso that if, on
attaining the age of nineteen, she felt averse to the match, she should
forfeit a certain estate in Wales which had once belonged to the
Heathcotes, and contained the old residence of that family.

Sir William and his son had been living in the retirement of a little
German capital, when the tidings of this wardship reached them. A number
of unfortunate speculations had driven the baronet into exile from
England, and left him with a pittance barely sufficient to live in the
strictest economy. To this narrow fortune Charles Heathcote had come
back, after serving in a most extravagant Hussar regiment, and taking
his part in an Indian campaign; and the dashing' soldier first heard,
as he lay wounded in the hospital, that he must leave the service, and
retire into obscurity. If it had not been for his strong affection for
his father, Charles would have enlisted as a private soldier, and taken
his chance for future distinction, but he could not desert him at such
a moment, nor separate himself from that share of privation which should
be henceforth bor