him; and so should every gentleman who sits by or is near a lady. I
know one that never fails."

"And pray, who is the perfect gentleman?" asked Jane smiling. "Is he
one of my acquaintances?"

"Certainly he is. I mean Charles Wilton."

"He is, I must confess, different from Walter Gray," Jane remarked,
drily.

"I hope he is!" said Cara, tossing her head, for she felt that
something by no means complimentary was implied in the equivocal
remark of her friend.

"But, seriously, Cara, I must, in turn, express regret that you
allow yourself to feel interested in one like Charles Wilton. Trust
me, my friend, he is unworthy of your regard."

"And pray, Miss," said Cara, warming suddenly, "what do you know of
Charles Wilton, that will warrant your throwing out such
insinuations against him?"

"Little beyond what I have learned by my own observation."

"And what has that taught you? I should like very much to know."

"It has taught me, Cara," replied Jane, seriously, "to estimate him
very lightly indeed. From what I have seen, I am convinced that he
possesses neither fixed principles nor any decision of character. In