"How can you ask such a question? What is _he_ to _me_, or _I_ to
_him?_ If he ever thought of me, besides, he must have remembered that the
difference of station between us presents an insurmountable objection."

"As if Love asked for anything better," cried Mrs. Morris, laughingly.
"Why, dearest, the passion thrives on insurmountable objections, just
the way certain fish swallow stones, not for nutriment, but to aid
digestion by a difficulty. If he be the man I take him for, he must hug
an obstacle to his heart as a Heaven-sent gift. Be frank with me, May,"
said she, passing her arm affectionately round her waist; "confess
honestly that he told you as much."

"No; he never said that," muttered she, half reluctantly. "What he said
was that if disparity of condition was the only barrier between us,--if
he were sure, or if he could even hope, that worldly success could open
an avenue to my heart--"

"That he 'd go and be Prime Minister of England next session.

'If doughty deeds
My lady please!'

That was his tone, was it? Oh dear! and I fancied the man had something
new or original about him. Truth is, dearest, it is in love as in
war,--there are nothing but the same old weapons to fight with, and we
are lost or won just as our great-great-grandmothers were before us."

"I wish you would be serious, Lucy," said the girl, half rebukefully.

"Don't you know me well enough by this time to perceive that I am never
more thoughtful than in what seems my levity? and this on principle,
too, for in the difficulties of life Fancy will occasionally suggest a
remedy Reason had never hit upon, just as sportsmen will tell you that
a wild, untrained spaniel will often flush a bird a more trained dog had
never 'marked.' And now, to be most serious, you want to choose between
the eligible man who is sure of you, and the most unequal suitor who
despairs of his success. Is not that your case?"

May shook her head dissentingly.

"Well, it is sufficiently near the issue for our purpose. Not so? Come,
then, I 'll put it differently. You are balancing whether to refuse your
fortune to Charles Heathcote or yourself to Alfred Layton; and my advice
is, do both."

May grew very pale, and, after an effort to say something, was silent.

"Yes, dearest, between the man who never pledges to pay and him who
offers a bad promissory note, there is scant choice, and I 'd say, take
neither."

"I know how it will wound my dear old gu