"Indeed, I cannot tell. He lives in another State, and may be rich or poor, for aught we know of a certainty; all that I can say is, that his friend Bosworth never represented him as wealthy to us."
"That is a pity," she said, thoughtfully, "a great pity; an heiress stands no chance with such men."
I started, feeling as if it were Jessie she was speaking of.
"And why, pray?" was my sharp response.
"Ah! these splendid men, proud and poor, how can you expect them to face the world as fortune-hunters? After all, wealth has its drawback. I often pity a girl with money, for the most sensitive and the most noble keep aloof. I can imagine a man like this Lawrence now wearing his heart out, or turning it to iron if it brought him to the feet of an heiress. Such men like to grant, not take."
"Isn't that a sort of proud selfishness?" I asked, struck by the force and truth of her worldly knowledge.
"Selfishness? Of course it is. What else do we find in the noblest nature? But you are looking serious, and I have watched that cloud of smoke till it wearies me."
She arose while speaking, and walked away, passing through the trees like some gorgeous bird whose home was beneath the branches.
I watched her with a strange feeling of excitement. What would her object be in cross-questioning me as she did? Was it mere vulgar curiosity, or some deep-seated purpose? Why this anxiety about Jessie's expectations? In short, had the woman come to us bent on mischief of some kind, or was I a suspicious wretch, determined to find evil in everything?