Nothing would suit her better than the excitement of it, and then—. She laughed as she thought, “Give me a chance, and I will win this Mr. Travers, if what I can learn of him is satisfactory.” She was very happy now, for Oakfield opened up to her a wonderful field of adventure, and she was anticipating it greatly when Rena’s second letter came, and put a little different coloring upon the matter. “It’s all Tom’s work,” she said, “and I dislike him as much as he dislikes me and always has. Acting a lie! Of course it is, if one chooses to give it that harsh name, but are not all our lives a lie? Do any of us declare our inner thoughts and motives upon the housetops, or issue daily bulletins with regard to what we intend to do? If I am to act the part of the Miss Burdick, the prospective bride of Reginald Travers, I shall do it well, or not at all. There is nothing half-way about me, and if I can win Reginald Travers, I shall do it. Rena will never care for him. She is in love with Tom, much as she says she hates him. I am glad Mr. Travers’ antecedents are all right. Family is something, when one has none to boast of.” On the receipt of Rena’s first letter she had set on foot inquiries concerning Mr. Travers, and learned more of him than Rena herself knew. He belonged to a fine Virginia family, which became impoverished during the war. He had, however, inherited something from his parents, both of whom were dead. There was a house in Richmond, where he was born, a plantation in tolerably good condition a few miles from the city, and a small income, sufficient for him to lead the life of a gentleman of leisure, if he kept his wants within his means. With this knowledge Irene was ready to take Mr. Travers without Sandy McPherson’s money, if he proved at all desirable. She had the matter fully in hand and was only anxious to commence operations. As to Mr. Travers’ character she had not inquired, nor did she particularly care. An F. F. V. must be correct, and Rena’s description of him did not disconcert her in the least, but rather raised her spirits. A bashful man who had no small talk and did not care for ladies’ society, would be easier to manage than one up to all the tricks of women, she argued, and she had little fear of the result. If she succeeded in interesting Reginald in her for herself she knew exactly the pretty devices she would use in explaining the mistake when he learned who she really was. She had rehearsed it more than once in the privacy of her room. She knew the words she would use, the gestures she would make in her distress, and even the expression of her eyes, which could look unutterable things when she willed to have them. Her mirror showed her all this and she practised before it daily, arguing that it was just as much one’s duty to educate and train the expression of the eyes and face and smile as to walk and speak correctly. She had met a good many gentlemen, but they were either