"Yes, there is. Now listen to me attentively. The very best thing, all circumstances considered, for you to do is to get engaged right away to the sort of fellow who understands you and whom you understand--the sort of man who would put you into his gallery, you know, and whom you would put into your gallery. Oh, yes, you comprehend what I mean. The best thing for you, Miss Heather, is to get engaged to that man, and when once you are engaged not on any account to break off your engagement, but to have it speedily followed by marriage. You'd be as happy as the day is long with the man who understands you, and whom you understood. And, for that matter, you _could_ have your cottage in the country, only it would not be shared by your father but by--well, by the other man--the man who understands you so well, you know." "I don't know," I said; "and I certainly won't marry any man unless I love him." "But you must love him," he said, giving me a long and most earnest glance, "if you put him into your gallery of heroes." "Oh, I don't know," I replied to that. "I can admire immensely without--without loving. Why, Captain Carbury, I have put you in, and----" But then he gave me another glance, and it was so very earnest, and his dark blue eyes looked so very pleading, that suddenly the colour leaped into my cheeks, and I lowered my own eyes and began to tremble all over. "It is the best thing for you, Miss Heather," he said, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. "Oh! yes, I know what I am talking about. Lots of girls do dreadful things; they mar their lives fearfully. I'll tell you how they mar them. They--they marry, and not for love." "But I am not one of those girls," I replied. "Are you not, really?" he said. "Now, I have heard rumours, oh, yes!--and while the rumours are being circulated, everything sounds very nice and very golden, but----" He bent a little closer, until his arm touched mine. Morris was coming back. I saw her trailing her dress over the grass, and carrying a great basket of violets, white and different shades of blue, in her hand. "Listen," he said. "Even if you did not love with all your heart and soul and strength, don't you think that you might just try the man you put into your gallery of heroes? Don't you think you might begin"--he dropped his voice, and it became quite hoarse--"to love him a little?" "Oh! oh! oh!" I said; "I could not! You were engaged only a few days ago to Lady Dorothy Vinguard! Why, Captain Carbury, I never even thought of you. I don't love anybody at all, except father--that is--yet."