Victoria did not intend to do any harm by what she had said: she really believed that, in promoting a union between her cousin and Hilary, she was acting as kindly by one as the other, and her assertions were strictly true. She thought he was gaining ground, and fancied that if she could only keep away rivals, his interests would be safe; time and constancy, a better knowledge of his value, and a more thorough appreciation of the honor his love did its object, would alter her opinions, and change her tone. His value she hoped to assist in demonstrating by showing him to Hilary as the center of attraction, the admired, courted, popular master of “the Ferns;” and the distinction which his notice conferred on her in that party would perhaps induce her to consider that it would be worth while to become his wife. It was very natural that she should imagine this; she judged, as all must do, by her own feelings, and set before her friend the temptations which would have had most influence with herself. She had, on first arriving at “the Ferns,” been a little vexed that she could not awaken any visible partiality in her cousin’s mind; for though betrothed, she had a strong taste for admiration and flattery; but she had soon penetrated his secret, then gained his confidence, and warmly taken up his cause. The appearance of Captain Hepburn, his manner to Hilary, and her glances at him had alarmed her; and desirous to prevent her young friend from throwing away what she conceived to be the substance, in grasping at a shadow, she determined to give him such information on the subject as would probably occasion him to draw back, and leave the ground open.