“There could be no danger,” she said, “Miss Carleton’s pupils were all rich and well born—­the young artist poor and unknown.  They were all educated with one idea, namely, that the end and aim of their existence was to marry well, was to secure a title, if possible—­diamonds, an opera box, a country house and town mansion.  With that idea engraven so firmly on heart, soul and mind, it was not possible that there could be any danger in receiving a few drawing lessons from a penniless, unknown artist like Allan Lyster.”

So Miss Carleton, for once laying aside her usual caution, engaged him, and Adelaide Lyster told her favorite pupil as soon as the engagement was made.  The governess-pupil had laid her plans well.  On her first entrance into that high school where every girl had either riches, beauty or high birth, Adelaide Lyster had sworn to herself to make the best use of her opportunities, and to secure wealth at least for this her beloved brother.  Allan should marry one of the girls, and then his fortune in life would be made.  After passing them all in review she decided on Marion Arleigh.  Not only was she the wealthiest heiress, but in her case there were no parents to interfere—­no father with stern refusal, no mother with tearful pleadings.  When she was of age she could please herself—­marry Allan, if he would persuade her to do so, and then he would be master of all her wealth.  She began her management of the somewhat difficult business with tact and diplomacy worthy of a gray-headed diplomatist.  She spoke so incessantly of her brother—­praising his genius, his great gifts—­that Marion could not help thinking of him.  She studied the character of this young heiress, and played so adroitly upon her weakness that Marion Arleigh, in her sweet girlish simplicity, had no chance against her.

When Allan Lyster came, to all outward appearances no one could have been more reserved; he rarely addressed his pupils, never except on matters connected with the lesson.  He never looked at them.  Miss Carleton flattered herself that she had found a treasure.  Allan was not only the cheapest master she had ever had, but he was also a model of discretion.  Yet none the less had he adopted his sister’s ideas and made up his mind to woo and win Marion Arleigh.

“It is well worth your while to try,” said his sister.  “There are no parents to interfere; she will be her own mistress the very day she is of age.”

“But she is only about seventeen now,” said Allan; “there will be so long to wait.”

“The prize is well worth waiting for.  Half the peers in England would be proud and thankful to win it.  If you play your cards well, Allan, in one way or another you must succeed.  Let me tell you the most important thing to do.”

“What is that?” he asked, looking admiringly into his sister’s face.

“Persuade her to write to you, and mind that her letters to you contain a promise of marriage.  Do you see the importance of that?”