“All that is nothing.  Win her affections, and she must be yours.”

“But I am not so certain that I can do that.”

“Nonsense!  It is half done already.”

“You seem very positive about the matter.”

“Because I am never mistaken on these subjects.  I can tell, the moment I see a young couple together, whether they will suit each other or not.”

“And you think, then, that we will just suit?”

“Certainly I do.”

“I only wish that I could think so.”

“Do you, indeed?  I am glad to hear you say that.  I thought you could not be insensible to the charms of so sweet a girl.”

“Do you, then, really believe that if I offered myself to Mary Lester, she would accept me?”

“If you went the right way about it, I am sure she would.”

“What do you mean by the right way?”

“The right way for you, of course, is to endeavour to win her affections.  She is already, I can see, strongly prepossessed in your favour, but is not herself aware to what extent her feelings are interested.  Throw yourself into her company as much as you can, and when in her company pay her the kindest attentions.  But do not visit her at her own house at present, or her father may crush the whole affair.  When I see her again, I will drop a word in your favour.”

“I am certainly very much indebted to you, Mrs. Martindale, for your kind hints and promised interference.  I have often felt drawn toward Mary, but always checked the feeling, because I had no idea that I, could make an impression on her mind.”

“Faint heart never won fair lady,” was Mrs. Martindale’s encouraging response.

“Well, Mary,” said the lady to Miss Lester, a few days afterward, “have you seen Mr. Fenwick since?”

“Mr. Fenwick!” said she, in tones of affected surprise.

“Yes, Mr. Fenwick.”

“No—­of course not.  Why do you ask so strange a question?  He does not visit me.”

“Don’t he?  Well, I have seen him.”

“Have you?  Then I hope you were very much delighted with his company, for he seems to be a favourite of yours.”

“He certainly is a favourite of mine, Mary.  I have known him for a good many years, and have always esteemed him highly.  There are few young men who can claim to be his equal.”

“I doubt not but there are hundreds to be met with every day as good as he.”

“Perhaps so, Mary.  I have not, however, been so fortunate as to come across them.”

“No doubt he is a paragon!”

“Whether he be one or not, he at least thinks there is no one like you.”

“Like me!” ejaculated Mary, taken thus suddenly by surprise, while the colour mounted to her face, and deepened about her eyes and forehead.

“Yes, like you.  The fact is, Mary, he thinks and speaks of you in the kindest terms.  You have evidently interested him very much.”