The visions, curiously enough, always took the direction of magnificence.

She pictured herself as a leader of society, covered with diamonds, standing at the head of a broad marble staircase and receiving Counts by the dozen (vide Ouida's novels, read by stealth); or else as a rich man's wife who dispensed hospitality regally, and was presented at Court, and set the fashion in dress and jewels.

At the back of all her dreams there was always a man--a girl's picture is never complete without a man--a strong, masterful man, whose will should crush down opposition, and whose abilities should make his name--and incidentally her name--famous all over the world.

She herself, of course, was always the foremost figure, the handsomest woman, the best-dressed, the most admired; for Ellen Harriott, though only a girl, and a friendless governess at Kuryong, was not inclined to put herself second to anyone.

Having learnt from her father's papers that he was of an old family, she considered herself anybody's equal.