And this was true. She did not know. It certainly was not Fisker's fault that she should still be in the dark as to her own destiny, for he had asked her often enough, and had pressed his suit with all his eloquence. But Marie had now been wooed so often that she felt the importance of the step which was suggested to her. The romance of the thing was with her a good deal worn, and the material view of matrimony had also been damaged in her sight. She had fallen in love with Sir Felix Carbury, and had assured herself over and over again that she worshipped the very ground on which he stood. But she had taught herself this business of falling in love as a lesson, rather than felt it. After her father's first attempts to marry her to this and that suitor because of her wealth,--attempts which she had hardly opposed amidst the consternation and glitter of the world to which she was suddenly introduced,--she had learned from novels that it would be right that she should be in love, and she had chosen Sir Felix as her idol. The reader knows what had been the end of that episode in her life. She certainly was not now in love with Sir Felix Carbury. Then she had as it were relapsed into the hands of Lord Nidderdale,--one of her early suitors,--and had felt that as love was not to prevail, and as it would be well that she should marry some one, he might probably be as good as any other, and certainly better than many others. She had almost learned to like Lord Nidderdale and to believe that he liked her, when the tragedy came. Lord Nidderdale had been very good-natured,--but he had deserted her at last. She had never allowed herself to be angry with him for a moment. It had been a matter of course that he should do so. Her fortune was still large, but not so large as the sum named in the bargain made. And it was moreover weighted with her father's blood. From the moment of her father's death she had never dreamed that he would marry her. Why should he? Her thoughts in reference to Sir Felix were bitter enough;--but as against Nidderdale they were not at all bitter. Should she ever meet him again she would shake hands with him and smile,--if not pleasantly as she thought of the things which were past,--at any rate with good humour. But all this had not made her much in love with matrimony generally. She had over a hundred thousand pounds of her own, and, feeling conscious of her own power in regard to her own money, knowing that she could do as she pleased with her wealth, she began to look out into life seriously.

And this was true. She did not know. It certainly was not Fisker's fault, for he had asked her often enough. But Marie had now been wooed so many times that the romance of the thing was worn and damaged. She had chosen Sir Felix as her idol, modelled on the books she had read, but she was not now in love with Sir Felix Carbury. Then she had as it were relapsed into the hands of Lord Nidderdale, and felt that he would probably be as good as any other. She had almost learned to like him when the tragedy came, and he had deserted her. She had not been at all angry or bitter. Should she ever meet him again she would shake hands with him and smile. But all this had not made her much in love with matrimony generally. She had over a hundred thousand pounds of her own, and knew that she could do as she pleased with her wealth.
