"I am sorry," said Mrs. St. John, after a moment's pause, "that you have refused to consider his suit for at least two months. Eligible young men are not so plentiful nowadays that a young girl can be so independent."

"I need not ask you what your opinion of an eligible young man is," said the young girl, throwing back her head haughtily, "for I know you would answer—a large bank account. But in my opinion that does not constitute all, where the happiness of a life-time is at stake. I would rather marry a man whose reputation[91] was spotless, if he did not have a second coat to his back. There is something more than money in this world to make our happiness. I am glad instead of sorry that I refused to give him an answer for two months. I shall demand to know who the young girl is who came to our door, and what she is to him."

"Then you will be doing a very unwise thing," declared her mother, emphatically. "Let well enough alone. I told the girl to call around to-morrow night, and when she comes I will have a talk with her."

"Will you permit me to be present at the interview, mamma?"

"By no means!" exclaimed Mrs. St. John, with asperity. "The story that no doubt will be unfolded to me is not for ears such as yours. I will tell as much to you as I deem necessary for you to know; let that suffice."

But the young beauty and heiress was not to be appeased. She made up her mind to see the girl at all hazards when she should come; but much to the surprise of both mother and daughter, the girl did not put in an appearance.

That day passed, as did also the next and the next. A week went by and lengthened into a fortnight, and still the girl came not.

"You see, my dear, her statement was false!" cried Mrs. St. John, triumphantly. "She feared that we would investigate her story, and she was no doubt a fraud. If you believe all those strange stories you hear, you will have enough to do. She was no doubt looking for hush-money, and when I did not offer to give it to her, you see she did not return."

This seemed quite the truth, as Florence saw it.

How wrong it had been to even suspect him! She made up her mind that if he should broach the subject before the time she had named, she might not refuse his pleading.

She was expecting him that very evening. He came at last, looking so handsome, so buoyant, that the girl's[92] heart went out to him at once, as the hearts of so many women had done.

He brought her some beautiful violets, and he knew he had as good as won her when he saw her fasten them in the bodice of her dress.

Florence St. John was sitting in a velvet arm-chair but a short distance away. Her beautiful face was softened, more so than he had ever seen it before, the smile on her lips was sweeter—the proud, half-defiant, flashing loveliness seemed all at once to grow gentle.

He no longer seemed quite sure of her. It was Florence St. John's silence that alarmed him, perhaps.

"I wish," he cried, "that I knew in what words and in what fashion other men make love."

"Does not your own heart teach you?" asked the young girl, suddenly.

His face flushed at the question.

"Yes," he answered; "but I am not sure that the teachings are of the right kind. You have not answered me, and it must be my fault, either because I have not expres............