Every moment I was falling more deeply and more helplessly in love, and yet across all my rapturous thoughts of Agatha came doubt and wonder as to why they did not like Coralie. Strange; she had the beauty of a siren, the grace and wit of a queen of society, the talents and accomplishments of a complete woman of the world, yet no one seemed to like her. How could it be? Lady Thesiger rose at last, declaring that she was ashamed at the length of her visit. When they were gone I went back to Clare. She looked up at me with a smile; there was a bright flush of animation on her face. "How much I like them, Edgar! How kind Lady Thesiger is, and Agatha! Oh, brother, how I wish I had a sister like her!" I thought I would ask her to solve my doubt. "Clare," I said, gravely, "I want you to explain something to me. You, being a woman, can understand women. Tell me how it is no one likes Coralie. She is beautiful and clever; why is it no one cares for her?" My sister looked at me uneasily. "I cannot tell. I wish you would not ask me, Edgar." "Nay; tell me what you think?" "Then I fancy it must be because she is not quite sincere. I do not like saying anything so unkind. You must not let it prejudice you against her; but she gives me always the impression of a person who leads two lives--one that everybody sees and one that nobody understands save herself." "How old should you imagine her to be?" I asked; and again my sister looked uneasily at me. "We have been in the habit of considering her a young girl," she replied, "but do you know, Edgar, I believe she is more than thirty?" "It is impossible!" I cried. "Why, Clare, she does not look a day more than eighteen." "She is what the French people call well preserved. She will look no older for the next ten years. She has a girl's figure and a girl's face, but a woman's heart, Edgar, I am sure of it." "She is thirty, you say, and has been here for five years; that would make her a woman of twenty-five before she left France. A French woman of twenty-five has lived her life." "That is just what I mean," she replied. "Rely upon it, for all her girlish face and girlish ways, Coralie d'Aubergne has lived hers." "Clare," I asked, half shyly, "how do you like Miss Thesiger?" A look bright as a sunbeam came over my sister's face. "Ah! hers is a beautiful nature--sweet, frank, candid, transparent--no two lives there, Edgar. Her face is as pure as a lily, and her soul is the same. No need to turn from me, dear; I read your secret when she came in. If you give me such a sister as that I shall be grateful to you." "Then you think there might be some chance for me if I asked her to become my wife?" "Assuredly. Why not?"