She heaved a little sigh over these social reminiscences, and finished her repast in meditative silence. She had not been accustomed to much thinking, and to indulge in it at all for any length of time was actually a novelty. Her aunt had told her never to think, as it made the face serious, and developed lines on the forehead. And she had, under this kind of tutelage, became one of a brilliant, fashionable, dress-loving crowd of women, who spend most of their lives in caring for their complexions and counting their lovers. Yet every now and again, a wave of repugnance to such a useless sort of existence arose in her and made a stormy rebellion. Surely there was something nobler in life--something higher-- something more useful and intelligent than the ways and manners of a physically and morally degenerate society? It was a still, calm evening, and the warmth of the sun all day had drawn such odours from the hearts of the flowers that the air was weighted with perfume when she wandered out again into her garden after dinner, and looked up wistfully at the gables of the Manor set clear against a background of dark blue sky patterned with stars. A certain gravity oppressed her. There was, after all, something just a little eerie in the on-coming of night in this secluded woodland place where she had voluntarily chosen to dwell all alone and unprotected, rather than lend herself to her aunt's match-making schemes. "Of course," she argued with herself, "I need not stay here if I don't like it. I can get a paid companion and go travelling,--but, oh dear, I've had so much travelling!--or I can own myself in the wrong to Aunt Emily, and marry that wretch Roxmouth,--Oh, no! I COULD not! I WILL not!" She gave an impatient little stamp with her foot, and anon surveyed the old house with affectionate eyes. "You shall be my rescue!" she said, kissing her hand playfully to the latticed windows,--"You shall turn me into an old-fashioned lady, fond of making jams and pickles, and preserves and herbal waters! I'll put away all the idiotic intrigues and silly fooling of modern society in one of your quaint oaken cupboards, and lock them all up with little bags of lavender to disinfect them! And I will wait for someone to come and find me out and love me; and if no one ever comes--" Here she paused, then went on,--"If no one ever comes, why then--" and she laughed--"some man will have lost a good chance of marrying as true a girl as ever lived!--a girl who could love-- ah!" And she stretched out her pretty rounded arms to the scented air. "HOW she could love if she were loved!" The young moon here put in a shy appearance by showing a fleck of silver above the highest gable of the Manor.