whose cool brows were never fevered by a touch of passion? Something more than curiosity now impelled me to listen, and I cautiously advanced a step or two towards the shadow of a broad elm where I could see without being seen. Yes, there was Rimânez,--standing erect with folded arms, his dark, sad, inscrutable eyes fixed on Mavis, who stood opposite to him a few paces off, looking at him in her turn with an expression of mingled fascination and fear. "I have asked you Mavis Clare,"--said Lucio slowly--"to let me serve you. You have genius--a rare quality in a woman,--and I would advance your fortunes. I should not be what I am if I did not try to persuade you to let me help on your career. You are not rich,--I could show you how to become so. You have a great fame--that I grant; but you have many enemies and slanderers who are for ever trying to pull you down from the throne you have won. I could bring these to your feet, and make them your slaves. With your intellectual power, your personal grace and gifts of temperament, I could, if you would let me guide you, give you such far-reaching influence as no woman has possessed in this century. I am no boaster,--I can do what I say and more; and I ask nothing from you in return except that you should follow my advice implicitly. My advice, let me tell you is not difficult to follow; most people find it easy!" His expression of face, I thought, was very singular as he spoke,--it was so haggard, dreary and woe-begone that one might have imagined he was making some proposal that was particularly repugnant to him, instead of offering to perform the benevolent action of helping a hard-working literary woman to achieve greater wealth and distinction. I waited expectantly for Mavis to reply. "You are very good, Prince Rimânez," she said, after a little pause--"to take any thought for me at all. I cannot imagine why you should do so; for I am really nothing to you. I have of course heard from Mr Tempest of your great wealth and influence, and I have no doubt you mean kindly. But I have never owed anything to any one,--no one has ever helped me,--I have helped myself, and still prefer to do so. And really I have nothing to wish for,--except--when the time comes--a happy death. It is true I am not rich,--but then I do not want to be rich. I would not be the possessor of wealth for all the world! To be surrounded with sycophants and flatterers,--never to be able to distinguish false friends from true,--to be loved for what you _have_ and not for what you _are_!--oh no, it would be misery to me. And I have never craved for power,--except perhaps the power to win love. And that I have,--many people love my books, and through my books love me,--I feel their love, though I may never see or know them personally. But I am so conscious of their sympathy that I love them in return without the necessity of personal acquaintance. They have hearts which respond to _my_ heart,--that is all the power I care about."