"Well, I hope it will stay for me, once. If that stupid creature comes, why, I don't know what I shall do! He's so presuming! and he'll squeak about with those horrid shoes of his; and then, I suppose, it will all come out, one way or another; and I don't know what Clayton will think."

"But I thought you didn't care what he thought."

"Well, you know, he's been writing to me all about his family. There's his father, is a very distinguished man, of a very old family; and he's been writing to me about his sister, the most dreadfully sensible sister, he has got—good, lovely, accomplished, and pious! Oh, dear me! I don't know what in the world he ever thought of me for! And, do you think, there's a postscript from his sister, written elegantly as can be!"

"As to family, Miss Nina," said Harry, "I think the Gordons can hold up their heads with anybody; and, then, I rather think you'll like Miss Clayton."

"Ah! but, then, Harry, this talking about fathers and sisters, it's bringing the thing awfully near! It looks so much, you know, as if I really were caught. Do you know, Harry, I think I'm just like my pony? You know, she likes to have you come and offer her corn, and stroke her neck; and she likes to make you believe she's going to let you catch her; but when it comes to putting a bridle on her, she's off in a minute. Now, that's the way with me. It's rather exciting, you know, these beaux, and love-letters, and talking sentiment, going to the opera, and taking rides on horseback, and all that. But, when men get to talking about their fathers, and their sisters, and to act as if they were sure of me, I'm just like Sylfine—I want to be off. You know, Harry, I think it's a very serious thing, this being married. It's dreadful! I don't want to be a woman grown. I wish I could always be a girl, and live just as I have lived, and have plenty more girls come and see me, and have fun. I haven't been a bit happy lately, not a bit; and I never was unhappy before in my life."

"Well, why don't you write to Mr. Clayton, and break it all off, if you feel so about it?"

"Well, why don't I? I don't know. I've had a great mind to do it; but I'm afraid I should feel worse than I do now. He's coming just like a great dark shadow over my life, and everything is beginning to feel so real to me! I don't want to take up life in earnest. I read a story, once, about Undine; and, do you know, Harry, I think I feel just as Undine did, when she felt her soul coming in her?"

"And is Clayton Knight Heldebound?" said Harry, smiling.

"I don't know. What if he should be? Now, Harry, you see the fact is that sensible men get their heads turned by such kind of girls as I am; and they pet us, and humor us. But, then, I'm afraid they're thinking, all the while, that their turn to rule is coming, by and by. They marry us because they think they are going to make us over; and what I'm afraid of is, I never can be made over. Don't think I was cut out right in the first place; and there never will be much more of me than there is now. And he'll be comparing me with his pattern sister; and I shan't be any the more amiable for that. Now, his sister is what folks call highly educated, you know, Harry. She understands all about literature, and everything. As for me, I've just cultivation enough to appreciate a fine horse—that's the extent. And yet I'm proud. I wouldn't wish to stand second, in his opinion, even to his sister. So, there it is. That's the way with us girls! We are always wanting what we know we ought not to have, and are not willing to take the trouble to get."