waist, in which, however, she prevented him, seeing the angry passion rising in her cousin’s eyes.  “He is to be my husband, I hope.  I have told him that I love him, and I tell you so also.  He has my promise, and I cannot take it back without perjury to him, and ruin, absolute ruin, to myself.  All my happiness in this world depends on him.  He is to me my own one absolute master, to whom I have given myself altogether, as far as this world goes.  Even were he to reject me I could not give myself to another.”

“My Florence! my darling!” Harry exclaimed.

“After having told you so much, can you ask your cousin to be untrue to her word and to her heart, and to become your wife when her heart is utterly within his keeping?  Mountjoy, it is impossible.”

“What of me, then?” he said.

“Rouse yourself and love some other girl and marry her, and so do well with yourself and with your property.”

“You talk of your heart,” he said, “and you bid me use my own after such fashion as that!”

“A man’s heart can be changed, but not a woman’s.  His love is but one thing among many.”

“It is the one thing,” said Harry.  Then the door opened, and Mrs. Mountjoy entered the room.

“Oh dear! oh dear!” she said, “you, both of you, here together?”

“Yes:  we are both here together,” said Harry.

There was an unfortunate smile on his face as he said so, which made Mountjoy Scarborough very angry.  The two men were both handsome, two as handsome men as you shall see on a summer’s day.  Mountjoy was dark-visaged, with coal-black whiskers and mustaches, with sparkling, angry eyes, and every feature of his face well cut and finely formed; but there was absent from him all look of contentment or satisfaction.  Harry was light-haired, with long, silken beard, and bright eyes; but there was usually present to his face a look of infinite joy, which was comfortable to all beholders.  If not strong, as was the other man’s, it was happy and eloquent of good temper.  But in one thing they were alike:—­neither of them counted aught on his good looks.  Mountjoy had attempted to domineer by his bad temper, and had failed; but Harry, without any attempt at domineering, always doubting of himself till he had been assured of success by her lips, had succeeded.  Now he was very proud of his success; but he was proud of her, and not of himself.

“You come in here and boast of what you have done in my presence,” said Mountjoy Scarborough.

“How can I not seem to boast when she tells me that she loves me?” said Harry.

“For God’s sake, do not quarrel here!” said Mrs. Mountjoy.

“They shall not quarrel at all,” said Florence, “There is no cause for quarrelling.  When a girl has given herself away there should be an end of it.  No man who knows that she has done so should speak to her again in the way of love.  I will leave you now; but, Harry, you must come again, in order that I may tell you that you must not have it all your own way, just as you please, sir.”  Then she gave him her hand, and passing on at once to Mountjoy, tendered her hand to him also.  “You are my cousin, and the head now of my mother’s family.  I would fain know that you would say a kind word to me, and bid me ‘God speed.’”