Though still shy, she was always resolving that she would abandon her shyness, and already had thoughts of her own as to the perfectly open confidence which should exist between two lovers.

When alone--and she was much alone--she would build castles in the air, which were bright with art and love, rather than with gems and gold.

The books she read, poor though they generally were, left something bright on her imagination.

She fancied to herself brilliant conversations in which she bore a bright part, though in real life she had hitherto hardly talked to any one since she was a child.

Sir Felix Carbury, she knew, had made her an offer.