We question whether this was exactly the message Frank intended to give; but this bold fellow, who could resolve at a moment’s notice to undertake a long, tedious voyage, to penetrate to the seat of war in a savage country, and, if need were, to risk his life at every step for the sake of his friend, had not courage to send a single word of commonplace gallantry to a timid, tender girl. So it is--Hercules is but a cripple in sight of Omphale--Samson turns faint-hearted in the lap of Delilah--nor are these heroes of antiquity the only champions who have wittingly placed their brawny necks beneath a small white foot, and been surprised to find it could spurn so fiercely, and tread so heavily. Mary should have loved such a man as Frank, and _vice versâ_--here was the _beau idéal_ that each had formed of the opposite sex. Frank was never tired of crying up a woman of energy and courage, one who could dare and suffer, and still preserve the queenly dignity which he chose to esteem woman’s chiefest attraction; and so he neglected the gem, and set his great, strong heart upon the flower. Well, we have often seen it so; we _admire_ the diamond, but we _love_ the rose. As for Mary, she was, if possible, more inconsistent still. As she walked back to Grosvenor Square she thought over the heroic qualities of Mr. Hardingstone, and wondered how it was possible he should yet remain unmarried. “Such a man as that,” thought Mary, revolving in her own mind his manifold good qualities, “so strong, so handsome, so clever, so high-minded, he has all the necessary ingredients that make up a great man; how simple in his habits, and how frank and unaffected in his manner; a woman might acknowledge _him_ as a superior indeed! Mind to reflect; head to plan; and energy to execute! She would be _proud_ to love him, to cling to him, and look up to him, and worship him. And Blanche has known him from a child, and never seen all this!” and a pang smote Mary’s heart, as she recollected _why_, in all probability, Blanche had been so blind to Frank Hardingstone’s attractions; and how _she_, of all people, could not blame her for her preference of another: and then the fair young face and the golden curls rose before her mind’s eye like a phantom, and she turned sick as she thought it might even now be mouldering in the earth. Then Mary pulled a letter from her pocket, and looked at it almost with loathing, as the past came back to her like the shade of a magic-lantern. She saw the gardens at Bishops’-Baffler; the officers in undress uniform, and the grey charger; the evening walks; the quiet summer twilight; the steeple-chase at Guyville; and her eyes filled with tears, and she softened to another’s miseries as she reflected on her own. “Selfish, unprincipled as he is,” thought Mary, “he must love me, or he never would make such an offer as this. And what am I, that I should spurn the devotion of any human being? Have not I, too, been