“I was very much interested in your little book, Mr. Belcher,” said the lady, boldly.

“The General is one of the ablest of our native authors, eh?” responded that facetious person, with a jolly laugh.

“Decidedly,” said Mrs. Dillingham, “and so very terse and statistical.”

“Interesting book, wasn’t it?”

“Very!  And it was so kind of you, General, to let me see how you men manage such things!”

“We men!” and the General shrugged his shoulders.

“One man, then,” said the lady, on seeing that he was disposed to claim a monopoly in the wisdom of business.

“Do you remember one little item—­a modest little item—­concerning my foreign deposits?  Eh?”

“Little item, General!  What are you doing with so much money over there?”

“Nothing, or next to nothing.  That’s my anchor to windward.”

“It will hold,” responded the lady, “if weight is all that’s needed.”

“I intend that it shall hold, and that it shall be larger before it is smaller.”

“I don’t understand it;” and Mrs. Dillingham shook her pretty head.

Mr. Belcher sat and thought.  There was a curious flush upon his face, as he raised his eyes to hers, and looked intensely into them, in the endeavor to read the love that hid behind them.  He was desperately in love with her.  The passion, a thousand times repelled by her, and a thousand times diverted by the distractions of his large affairs, had been raised to new life by his last meeting with her; and the determinations of his will grew strong, almost to fierceness.  He did not know what to say, or how to approach the subject nearest to his heart.  He had always frightened her so easily; she had been so quick to resent any approach to undue familiarity; she had so steadily ignored his insinuations, that he was disarmed.

“What are you thinking about, General?”

“You’ve never seen me in one of my trances, have you?” inquired Mr. Belcher, with trembling lips and a forced laugh.

“No!  Do you have trances?”

“Trances?  Yes; and visions of the most stunning character.  Talbot has seen me in two or three of them.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“Not at all.  The General’s visions are always of a celestial character,—­warranted not to injure the most delicate constitution!  I feel one of them coming on now.  Don’t disturb me.”

“Shall I fan you?”

“Do, please!”

The General closed his eyes.  He had never before betrayed such excitement in her presence, and had never before appeared so dangerous.  While she determined that this should be her last exposure to his approaches, she maintained her brave and unsuspecting demeanor, and playfully waved her fan toward him.