“Virginia!” remonstrates Miss Susan; “and you know Sir Harry Hotspur is to take you.”

“No, no,” cries Virginia, “he bores me to distraction.  Besides,” laughing, “he ‘goes for married women.’  Let him have Mrs. Ashton, and give me Mr. Vansittart.”

Miss Susan has one virtue, which is, that she is never quite so shocked as she pretends to be.  Moreover, Virginia always gets her way with both uncle and aunt.  So when the evening of the dinner party arrives, Mr. Hayward brings Mr. Vansittart up to his niece and introduces him.  Whilst he is uttering a few of those banalites which must inevitably be the precursors of even the most interesting conversation between two strangers, Virginia is taking an inventory of him.  He is tall, rather dark than fair; his features are well cut, and he has particularly expressive eyes, the color of which it takes her some time to decide about.  At the same moment he is saying to himself:  “What sort of woman is this, and what on earth shall I talk to her about?  I hope to heaven she isn’t a girl of the period.  She doesn’t look like it—­still less like a prude.  How I hate a society dinner!  I suppose I shall be bored to death, as usual.”

True to her promise, Virginia apprises him, whilst he yet is assimilating his soup, of her vow of celibacy.  He turns to look at her, being just a shade surprised at receiving such a confidence so early in their acquaintance, and then he sees the archest smile curving the corners of her mouth, and meets a glance from a pair of brown eyes that he now perceives to be beautiful.

Mr. Vansittart has a quick intelligence—­he understands in an instant the object of her remark.  His eyes light up with a sudden gleam, and he murmurs quietly, “Thanks so much for putting me at my ease.”

From that moment they are perfectly at home with each other, and fall to animated talk.  He does not air his theories about marriage, nor is religion discussed between them, but there are plenty of other topics, and they become aware of a dozen feelings and sympathies in common.  Virginia is as bright and witty as she is modest and pure-minded; there is nothing in the world that Mr. Vansittart detests so much as a coarse or immodest lady.  So charmed is he with Virginia, that he remains close to her side the whole evening, to the surprise of every one else.  No one ever saw him devote himself to a girl before.  He stays until the very last.  As he walks away from the door, after lighting his cigar, he reflects to himself:  “If any earthly power could induce me to marry, it would be a girl like that.  But,” resolutely, “nothing could.”  As Virginia wends her way upstairs to bed, she says to herself with a heavy sigh, “Why should he abuse marriage?  How happy he might make some woman!”