“I did not say that.” She gave another glance at the house again. Willie was standing at the door, in the morning sunshine, and beckoned to her to come back. She turned to him, as a flower turns to the sun. “No, I am far, far from saying that,” said the young woman, with a mixture of sadness and gladness, turning to obey the summons. Edgar stood still, looking after her with wondering gaze. The good-looking sailor, whose likeness to himself did not make him proud, was a poor creature enough to be as the sun in the heavens to this beautiful, stately young woman, who looked as if she had been born to be a princess. What a strange world it is, and how doubly strange is human nature! Willie had but to hold up a finger, and Margaret would follow him to the end of the earth; though the rest of his friends judged him rightly enough, and though even little Jeanie, though she loved, could scarcely approve her brother, Margaret was ready to give up even her hope of wealth and state, which she loved, for this Sultan’s notice. Strange influence, which no man could calculate upon, which no prudence restrained, nor higher nor lower sentiment could quite subdue! Edgar followed his beautiful cousin to the house with pitying eyes. He did not want her to marry Harry Thornleigh, but even to marry Harry Thornleigh, though she did not love him, seemed less degrading than to hang upon the smile, the careless whistle to his hand, of a man so inferior to her. I don’t know if, in reality, Willie was inferior to Margaret. She, for one, would have been quite satisfied with him; but great beauty creates an atmosphere about it which dazzles the beholder. It was not fit, Edgar felt, in spite of himself, that a woman so lovely should thus be thrown away.