"I don't argue that a girl thinking seriously of her future husband should lay any great stress on good temper," she answered, in a sweet musical voice. "A soldierly form, a pair of good eyes, a noble profile--any of these might easily outweigh good temper." "Ah! there, I fear, I disagree with you," I remarked smilingly. "It has always appeared to me that after the first year or so married people rarely think of each other's features, because they are always in each other's presence. They become heedless of whether each other's features are classical or ugly; but they never fail to be cognisant of one another's temper or shortcomings." "You speak as though from experience," she laughed, without, however, attempting to combat my argument. Another outburst of laughter greeted this bantering remark of hers. "No," observed Nellie, on my other hand. "Mr Heaton is the most confirmed bachelor I know. I believe he's a woman-hater--if the truth were told." "Oh, really, Miss Channing!" I protested. "That's certainly too bad of you. I assure you I'm no hater of the sex, but an admirer." "Heaton's about to make a pretty speech," observed the jovial, red-faced Colonel. "Go on, Wilford, my dear fellow, we're all attention." "No," I said, laughing. "I've been drawn quite unfairly into this controversy. Therefore I'll preserve a masterly silence." "Mr Heaton is, I think, diplomatic," laughed the dark, handsome girl next to me. "He has cleared his character of the aspersion cast upon it, and preserves a dignified attitude." And she turned and smiled gaily upon me in triumph. She was exquisitely charming. I sat at her side gossiping merrily, while to my dazzled gaze she presented a beautiful picture of youthful airy delicacy--feminine sweetness combined with patrician grace. For the first time in all my life that petticoated paradox, woman, conveyed to me the impression of perfect beauty, of timidity and grace, combined with a natural, inborn dignity. There was nothing forced or unnatural in her manner as with other women I had met; none of that affected mannishness of deportment and slangy embellishments of conversation which are so characteristic of girls of to-day, be they daughters of tradesmen or of peers. She gave me the impression--why, I cannot tell--of one who had passed under the ennobling discipline of suffering and self-denial. A melancholy charm tempered the natural vigour of her mind; her spirit seemed to stand upon an eminence and look down upon me as one inferior to her in intellect, in moral principle--in fact, in everything. From the very first moment when I had bowed to her on our introduction she held me spell-bound in fascination. When the ladies had left, and I sat alone with the Colonel, smoking over a liqueur, I inquired about her. "Mrs Anson is the widow of old General Anson," he said. "He died about twelve years ago, and they've since lived a great deal abroad."