Had her mind been as it was now when Lord Nidderdale first came to
her, she might indeed have loved him, who, as a man, was infinitely
better than Sir Felix, and who, had he thought it to be necessary,
would have put some grace into his lovemaking. But at that time she
had been childish. He, finding her to be a child, had hardly spoken to
her. And she, child though she was, had resented such usage. But a few
months in London had changed all this, and now she was a child no
longer. She was in love with Sir Felix, and had told her love.
Whatever difficulties there might be, she intended to be true. If
necessary, she would run away. Sir Felix was her idol, and she
abandoned herself to its worship. But she desired that her idol should
be of flesh and blood, and not of wood. She was at first half-inclined
to be angry; but as she sat with his letter in her hand, she
remembered that he did not know Didon as well as she did, and that he
might be afraid to trust his raptures to such custody. She could write
to him at his club, and having no such fear, she could write warmly.


Grosvenor Square. Early Monday Morning.

DEAREST, DEAREST FELIX,

I have just got your note;--such a scrap! Of course papa would
talk about money because he never thinks of anything else. I don't
know anything about money, and I don't care in the least how much
you have got. Papa has got plenty, and I think he would give us
some if we were once married. I have told mamma, but mamma is
always afraid of everything. Papa is very cross to her sometimes;--
more so than to me. I will try to tell him, though I can't always
get at him. I very often hardly see him all day long. But I don't