Erle never understood himself how caressing his manners could be at times. He liked all women, old and young, but only one had really touched his heart. It was strange, then, that more than one hoped that she had found favor in his eyes. Erle's sunshiny nature made him a universal favorite, but it may be doubted whether any of his friends really read him correctly. Now and then an older man told him he wanted ballast, and warned him not to carry that easy good nature too far or it might lead him into mischief; but the spoiled child of fortune only shook his head with a laugh. But in reality Erle Huntingdon's character wanted back-bone; his will, not a strong one, was likely to be dominated by a stronger. With all his pleasantness and natural good qualities he was vacillating and weak; if any pressure or difficulty should come into his life, it would be likely for him to be weighed in the balance and found wanting. At present his life had been smooth and uneventful; he had yet to test the hollowness of human happiness, to learn that the highest sort of life is not merely to be cradled in luxury and to fare sumptuously every day. The purple and fine linen are good enough in their way, and the myrrh and the aloes and the cassia, but what does the wise man say--"Rejoice, oh, young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment ... for childhood and youth are vanity." Erle knew that a new interest had lately come into his life; that a certain shabby room, that was yet more homelike to him than any room in Belgrave House, was always before his eyes: that a girl in a brown dress, with sweet, wistful eyes, was never absent from his memory. Neither Fern nor he owned the truth to themselves; they were ignorant as yet that they were commencing the first chapter of their life-idyl. Fern had a vague sense that the room was brighter when Erle was there looking at her with those kindly glances. She never owned to herself that he was her prince, and that she had found favor in his eyes. She was far too humble for that; but she knew the days were somehow glorified and transfigured when she had seen him, and Erle knew that no face was so lovely to him as this girl's face, no voice half so sweet in his ears, and yet people were beginning to connect his name with Miss Selby, Lady Maltravers' beautiful niece. He was thinking of Miss Selby now as he looked across at Fern. She had taken up her work again, and Percy had thrown himself into the rocking-chair beside her with a discontented expression on his face. He was telling himself that Miss Selby was handsome, of course strikingly handsome; but somehow she lacked this girl's sweet graciousness. Just then Fern raised her eyes, and a quick, sensitive color came into her face as she encountered his fixed glance.