All she said was, "Don't
you feel well enough, Mr. Noel? or don't you feel inclined?" He
answered, shortly, "I don't feel well enough"; and there the
conversation ended.
The next day the proceedings of the previous morning were exactly
repeated. This time Noel Vanstone went home rapturously with a keepsake
in his breast-pocket; he had taken tender possession of one of Miss
Bygrave's gloves. At intervals during the day, whenever he was alone,
he took out the glove and kissed it with a devotion which was almost
passionate in its fervor. The miserable little creature luxuriated in
his moments of stolen happiness with a speechless and stealthy delight
which was a new sensation to him. The few young girls whom he had met
with, in his father's narrow circle at Zurich, had felt a mischievous
pleasure in treating him like a quaint little plaything; the strongest
impression he could make on their hearts was an impression in which
their lap-dogs might have rivaled him; the deepest interest he could
create in them was the interest they might have felt in a new trinket or
a new dress. The only women who had hitherto invited his admiration, and
taken his compliments seriously had been women whose charms were on
the wane, and whose chances of marriage were fast failing them.
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