"What is it that you have to communicate?" asked Margaret, earnestly. "How can it be that you, a stranger have become acquainted with my concerns?" "Pshaw! English exclusiveness again!" mocked madame. "But I do know somewhat of your affairs, gentle Griselda. For instance, I hear that you are searching for Colonel Brand, that you may make over your fortune to him. Margaret Walsingham, how can you be so foolish?" "Madame, I only do my duty." "Ugh! You horrify me with your crucifixion of the flesh, you devotee of Duty." "Colonel Brand is worth sacrificing life itself for," said Margaret, with glowing eyes. Madame watched her with sudden interest. "Ah! I thought so," murmured she, sadly; "You care for this man--you love him." "Madame!" deprecated timid Margaret, coldly. "Yes, I see it. Poor creature, you should not love anything, do you know that, said madame, pityingly. "You are right," replied Margaret, with a meek, quiet despair. "My plain face and manner will never win me love." Madame Hesslein looked at her with a curious smile--at the spiritual face, the soulful eyes, the tall, magnificent figure--and she patted Margaret's hand with dainty tenderness. "Your humility is very prettily done," said she, "and would really look well on myself, for I have none of it. But you mistake me; I meant that since love is eternally being met with treachery, why do you waste it, and especially upon such a poor _parti_ as a colonel? Heavens! she troubles her digestion about a colonel! Why are you not more ambitious? If I were you, I wouldn't look below a major-general. I don't intend to give myself to any man who can't give me a lift in life. I am going to marry Vice-Admiral Oldright, who followed me to the Bermudas. I have worked hard to entrap him, and I have succeeded, I crossed the Atlantic five times for his sake, and I mean to get him; because when he is an admiral, and I am his wife, I shall take precedence of all other women in my circle." "Ambition is not worth a true woman's pursuit," said Margaret. "Well said, St. Griselda--such an apothegm deserves applause. Ah, well, Miss Walsingham, perhaps you are right, but you are not wise. You will stick to your colonel in spite of my advice? You will give him your fortune, and live on your wits in future? Poor creature! However I will not reproach you; for, as St. Chrysostom wrote to Pentadia, 'I know your great and lofty soul, which can sail, as with a fair wind through many tempests, and in the midst of the waves enjoy a white calm.' You will depart on your Utopian enterprise, contented with the white calm of an approving conscience in the midst of the waves of starvation. Men are such beasts, they prefer the bold and grasping Kestral like myself to rewarding the fidelity of a ring-dove like Miss Walsingham." Margaret was gazing breathlessly in the brilliant, heartless woman's face, and her voice faltered, as she asked: