Two o'clock struck, and the great bell rang out which called the guests to luncheon, a meal at which Cashel never appeared; and now Olivia listened to the sounds of merry laughter that floated along the corridors, and faded away in the distance, as group after group passed downstairs, and at last, all was silent again. Where was he? Why did he not come? she asked herself again and again. Her mamma and sister had purposely stayed away from luncheon to receive him; for so it was arranged, that she herself should first see Cashel alone, and afterwards be joined by the others--and yet he came not! The half-hour chimed, and Olivia looked up at the French clock upon the mantelpiece with amazement. Surely there had been more than thirty minutes since she heard it last; and the little Cupid on the top, who, with full-stretched bow and fixed eye, seemed bent on mischief--silly fool! like herself, there was no mark to shoot at! She sighed; it was not a deep sigh, nor a sad one; nor was it the wearisome expression of listlessness; nor was it the tribute paid to some half-called up memory. It was none of these; though perhaps each entered into it as an ingredient. But what right have we to analyze its meaning, or ask how much of hope or fear it contained?--what portion of regret for one she was about to desert?--what shame for the faithlessness? Ay, what shame! Coquetry is no virtue; but most certainly it is not the wholesale corrupter some moralists would make it. Miss Olivia Kennyfeck had been taught it from her earliest years,--from those pleasant days, when, dressed like some fairy queen, she descended from the nursery to stand beside pa's chair on company days, at dessert, and be stared at, and kissed, and “dear-loved” by some scores of people, whose enthusiasm for childish beauty had all the warmth that springs from turtle and truffles, iced punch and Lafitte. She had been taught it by the French governess, who told her to be _aimable_. The very dancing-master cried out, “Grace,--more grace, if you please, Miss Olivia,” at every step of her minuet; and the riding-master's eternal exhortation was, “Sit as if the whole world was watching you, miss.” These teachings go further and deeper into the heart than we suspect. “The wish to please”--pure and amiable as the feeling can be--lies on the frontier of a dangerous land,--the “wish to conquer.” That passion once engendered in the heart, no room remains for any other.