“Hardly worth repeating; some absurd story of a hopeless love. They were discussing you at Leighton Grange last night, and one bold spirit, bolder than the rest, declared that you had a profound and hopeless attachment to--guess whom?” “I would not trouble myself to guess,” he replied, with well-acted indifference, although his changed face might have bade the speaker beware of raising the Alden temper. “Of course, I knew it was untrue,” said Captain Pierson. “I said you were not the man to love in vain, and that Lady Hermione Lorriston, beautiful and gifted as she is, could not look down upon Sir Ronald Alden.” Sir Ronald laughed, but the demon of angry pride was strong within him. “I pay so little heed to rumor,” he said, “and am well content to know that when I am the victim of gossip, I save, perhaps, a better man.” But when his friend had told him all the conjectures, the wonder expressed and all the annoying little words that are so much wormwood to the soul of a proud man, Sir Ronald was indignant. “I have not worn my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at,” he said. “My secret has never passed my lips. Why should it be the subject of woman’s laughter and man’s bets?” “I will be a slave no longer,” he cried. “I will kill or cure myself from this hour! I swear to tear all thought of her from my heart or take my heart itself, and cast it from me.” He would marry, no matter that he could not love; he would not be laughed at and talked about because it was supposed he loved a woman and loved her in vain. When he remembered Clarice a hundred little incidents returned to him, how kind she always was to him, how her beautiful face brightened at his coming, and her voice sank to softest, sweetest music when she spoke to him. Trifles all light as air, yet now they formed a strong chain. He was proud, but not vain; he held women in highest reverence and respect; yet he felt a silent, sure conviction that Clarice loved him. How many lovers she dismissed! no one could imagine why; how ready she had always been to devote her whole time and attention to him. She had given up the most brilliant balls and parties to spend the evening with him, when he had gone to Mount Severn in search of comfort. She was beautiful and gifted, and she loved him. Should he ask her to be his wife? She would consent, he believed; but there came to him a doubt as to whether it was fair. What had he to give in return for her love and her life? Nothing but a broken heart and blighted by another woman’s falsity. All that he had of love and devotion had been offered at another shrine and had been rejected. Was it fair she should give all to him--he nothing to her? And then Sir Ronald raised his eyes to the clear, shining heavens. “If she will be my wife,” he said, “I swear to honor her and treat her as though she had been my first love.”