“If what he says be true!--It opens another and higher life. --What a man he is! and so young!--Has he not convicted me of feebleness and folly, and made me ashamed of myself?--What better thing could man or woman do for another than lower her in her own haughty eyes, and give her a chance of becoming such as she had but dreamed of the shadow of?--He is a gentleman--every inch! Hear him talk!--Scotch, no doubt,--and--well--a _little_ long-winded--a bad fault at his age! But see him ride!--see him swim!--and to save a bird!--But then he is hard--severe at best! All religious people are so severe! They think they are safe themselves, and so can afford to be hard on others! He would serve his wife the same as his mare if he thought she required it!--And I _have_ known women for whom it might be the best thing. I am a fool! a soft-hearted idiot! He told me I would give a baby a lighted candle if it cried for it.--Or didn’t he? I believe he never uttered a word of the sort; he only thought it.”--As she said this, there came a strange light in her eyes, and the light seemed to shine from all around them as well as from the orbs themselves. Suddenly she stood still as a statue in the middle of the room, and her face grew white as the marble of one. For a minute she stood thus--without a definite thought in her brain. The first that came was something like this: “Then Florimel _does_ love him!--and wants help to decide whether she shall marry him or not! Poor weak little wretch!--Then if I were in love with him, I would marry him--would I?--It is well, perhaps, that I’m not!--But she! he is ten times too good for her! He would be utterly thrown away on her! But I am _her_ counsel, not his; and what better could come to her than have such a man for a husband; and instead of that contemptible Liftore, with his grand earldom ways and proud nose! He has little to be proud of that must take to his rank for it! Fancy a right man condescending to be proud of his own rank! Pooh! But this groom is a man! all a man! grand from the centre out, as the great God made him!--Yes, it must be a great God that made such a man as that!--that is, if he _is_ the same he looks--the same all through!--Perhaps there are more Gods than one, and one of them is the devil, and made Liftore! But am I bound to give her advice? Surely not! I may refuse. And rightly too! A woman that marries from advice, instead of from a mighty love, is wrong. I need _not_ speak. I shall just tell her to consult her own heart-- and conscience, and follow them.--But, gracious me! Am _I_ then going to fall in love with the fellow?--this stable-man who pretends to know his maker! Certainly not. There is _nothing_ of the kind in my thoughts. Besides, how should _I_ know what falling in love means? I never was in love in my life, and don’t mean to be. If I were so foolish as imagine myself in any danger, would I be such a fool as be caught in it? I