"You have mortified Charles," said Miss Emmerson, so soon as he was out of hearing. "I am sure I hope not," said Julia, with a good deal of anxiety; "he is the last person I would wish to offend, he is so very kind." "No young man of twenty is pleased with being thought no hero," returned the aunt. "And yet all are not so," said Julia. "I hardly know what you mean by a hero; if you mean such men as Washington, Greene, or Warren, all are surely not so. These were heroes in deeds, but others may be equally brave." "I mean by a hero, a man whose character is unstained by any low or degenerate vices, or even feelings," said Julia, with a little more than her ordinary enthusiasm; "whose courage is as natural as it is daring; who is above fear, except of doing wrong; whose person is an index of his mind, and whose mind is filled with images of glory; that's what I call a hero, aunt." "Then he must be handsome as well as valiant," said Miss Emmerson, with a smile that was hardly perceptible. "Why that is--is--not absolutely material," replied Julia, blushing; "but one would wish to have him handsome too." "Oh! by all means; it would render his virtues more striking. But I think you intimated that you knew such a being," returned Miss Emmerson, fixing her mild eyes on Julia in a manner that denoted great interest. "Did I," said Julia, colouring scarlet; "I am sure--I have forgotten--it must be a mistake, surely, dear aunt." "Very possibly I misunderstood you, my dear," said Miss Emmerson, rising and withdrawing from the room, in apparent indifference to the subject.