"This may be all very well," exclaimed Mr. Escourt, when she had sung it, "for a man who fights and writes verses; who carries, as he says, a sword and a pen, as should his mistress discard him, he would no doubt console himself with that same sword and pen: but I should think, with nine women out of ten, a dismissal would be the result of so very dictatorial a declaration. With, only listen to him:" and he repeated the following lines:-- "Like Alexander I would reign, And I would reign alone; My soul did evermore disdain A rival in my throne, He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch To win or lose it all. Would you stand this, Miss Moore?" "Why," she said, as her fingers ran carelessly over the keys, "I should not feel much inclined to let Alexander reign _at all;_ but I should not quarrel with him for choosing to reign _alone_. Would you, Ellen?" "No," I answered, "only for believing it possible that he did _not_ reign alone." I involuntarily turned my eyes towards Edward's as I said this. They met his, and their expression was so earnest and affectionate that a thrill of pleasure ran through me. Mr. Escourt laughed and said, "Why, you would have your hero still more convicted than he is. To my mind, 'I'll never love thee more,' is, under any circumstances, the most impertinent speech a lover can make, and one which no woman ought to forgive." "Oh, indeed[]" exclaimed Mr. Manby, "I am quite like Montrose, I would never care for a woman who did not love me above all things." "Nor make her famous by your pen, nor glorious by your sword?" murmured Rosa, as she bent over the music-books. Edward smiled; but this time it was my eyes he sought; and by my side he sat down, when we left the pianoforte and went into the next room.