Major Favraud sat holding his ribbons gracefully in one gauntleted hand, while he uncovered his head with the other, bowing suavely in his knightly fashion, as he said: 

“Come drive with me, Miss Harz, for a while, and let the young folks take it together.”

“Oh, no, Major Favraud; you must excuse me, indeed!  I feel a little languid this morning, and I should be poor company.  Besides, I cannot surrender my position as one of the young folks yet.”

“Nay, I have something to say to you—­something very earnest.  You shall be at no trouble to entertain me; but you must not refuse a poor, sad fellow a word of counsel and cheer.  I shall think hard of you if you decline to let me drive you a little way.  Besides, the freshness of the morning is all lost on you there.  Now, set Marion a good example, and she will, in turn, enliven me later.”

So adjured, I consented to drive to the Fifteen-mile House with Major Favraud, and Duganne glided into the coach in my stead, to take my place and play vis-a-vis to Sylphy, who, as usual, was selected as traveling-companion on this occasion, “to take kear of de young ladies.”

“I am so glad I have you all to myself once more, Miss Harz!  I feel now that we are fast friends again.  And I wanted to tell you, while I could speak of her, how much my poor wife liked you. (The time will come when I must not, dare not, you know.) But for circumstances, she would have urged you to become our guest, or even in-dweller; but you know how it all was!  I need not feign any longer, nor apologize either.”

“It must have been that she saw how lovely and spirituelle I found her,” I said, “and could not bear to be outdone in consideration, nor to owe a debt of social gratitude.  She knew so little of me.  But these affinities are electric sometimes, I must believe.”

“Yes, there is more of that sort of thing on earth, perhaps, ’than is dreamed of in our philosophy’—­antagonism and attraction are always going on among us unconsciously.”

“I am inclined to believe so from my own experience,” I replied, vaguely, thinking, Heaven knows, of any thing at the moment rather than of him who sat beside me.

“Your mind is on Wentworth, I perceive,” he said, softly; after a short pause, “now give up your dream for a little while and listen to this sober reality—­sober to-day, at least,” he added, with a light laugh.  “By-the-way, talking of magnetism, do you know, Miss Harz, I think you are the most universally magnetic woman I ever saw?  All the men fall in love with you, and the women don’t hate you for it, either.”

“How perfectly the last assertion disproves the first!” I replied; “but I retract, I will not, even for the sake of a syllogism, abuse my own sex; women are never envious except when men make them so, by casting down among them the golden apple of admiration.”

“I know one man, at least, who never foments discord in this way!  Wentworth, from the beginning, had eyes and ears for no one but yourself, yet I never dreamed the drama would be enacted so speedily; I own I was as much in the dark as anybody.”