"I should be sorry to think Mr. Hamleigh capable of such petty ideas," said Christabel. "He told me once that he was like Achilles. Why should he be like Achilles? He is not a soldier." "Perhaps, it is because he has a Grecian nose," suggested Miss Bridgeman. "How can you imagine him so vain and foolish," cried Christabel, deeply offended. "I begin to think you detest him?" "No, Belle, I think him charming, only too charming, and I had rather the man you loved were made of sterner metal--not such a man as Leonard, whose loftiest desires are centred in stable and gun-room; but a man of an altogether different type from Mr. Hamleigh. He has too much of the artistic temperament, without being an artist--he is too versatile, too soft-hearted and impressionable. I am afraid for you, Christabel, I am afraid; and if it were not too late--if your heart were not wholly given to him----" "It is," answered Christabel, tearfully, with her face hidden; "I hate myself for being so foolish, but I have let myself love him. I know that I may never be his wife--I do not even think that he has any idea of marrying me--but I shall never marry any other man. Oh, Jessie! for pity's sake don't betray me; never let my aunt, or any one else in this world, learn what I have told you. I can't help trusting you--you wind yourself into my heart somehow, and find out all that is hidden there!" "Because I love you truly and honestly, my dear," answered Jessie, tenderly; "and now, good-night; I feel sure that Mr. Hamleigh will ask you to be his wife, and I only wish he were a better man." CHAPTER IV. "LOVE! THOU ART LEADING ME FROM WINTRY COLD."