"I shall not endure it," thought I, "and so shall pack my traps and be off to the regiment!" One evening I was seated alone by the library fire in Piccadilly, full of loving, of angry, and of doubtful thoughts which tormented me, when Aurora entered gently, and leaning over the back of my chair placed her pretty hands over my forehead and eyes in sport. "How you stare into the fire, Basil! You will quite spoil your eyes. What do you see there?" "I am reflecting--thinking----" "Of the fancied battles you see among the embers--the value of coals, or what?" she asked, laughing. "Now tell me, about what were your precious thoughts?" "They were of _you_, Aurora," said I, in a troubled voice, while taking her dear hands in mine; "my leave of absence----" "Again, that horrid leave--well, Basil?" "Is nearly at an end, and I must quit London, rejoin, tear myself from this," I replied, impetuously, and then added, with sudden softness; "I love you, dear Aurora--you know well that I do; but never shall it be said by the world that I married you for your fortune--as----" "The world!" said she, interrupting me, with an air of extreme annoyance, while casting down her eyes and withdrawing her hands; "but am I then so plain--so unattractive--that no one would marry for anything else, save for this unlucky Netherwood--eh, cousin?" she added, smiling with a charming air of coquetry. "Oh, Aurora--I wish you could see into my heart!" "And you love me?" said she, in a low and tremulous voice. "Dearly--most dearly!" "Then if I married you, cousin Basil," she resumed, looking smilingly into my eyes, "might not the world say it was for your title?" "Am I then so plain and unattractive," I was beginning, when she playfully put her hand on my mouth; "Aurora, of the baronetcy I cannot divest myself." "But I can _divest_ myself of Netherwood," she exclaimed, and sprung from my side with flashing eyes. Then with tremulous hands she unlocked an ebony cabinet, and after a rapid search, came to me with a folded document, saying, "Look, Basil, do you know this handwriting?" "It is that of old Nathan Wylie, our grandfather's solicitor; I should know it well." "Then read this paper, which he prepared and drew up a few weeks ago, at my especial request." I perused it with astonishment! It was what is legally or technically termed a "Disposition," by which Aurora divested herself of Netherwood, lands, estate, and everything, bestowing them upon me during her lifetime, with remainder to me and my heirs at her decease. I had learned enough of law during my residence with old Nathan Wylie, the framer of this new document, to know how full, ample, and generous it was, and while I rapidly scanned it from the preamble at the beginning to the signature of Aurora at the end, she stood near me with her cheeks flushing, her eyes full of tears, and her poor little hands trembling. "Oh, Aurora!" I exclaimed in bewilderment.