She scarcely admitted to her own mind the idea that she would now accept, if offered, the suit she had before despised; she did not even contemplate the renewal of that suit,--though there was something in the gallant and disinterested character of Vernon which should have made her believe he would regard their altered fortunes rather as a claim on his honour than a release to his engagements.

But hitherto no communication had passed between them; and this was strange if he retained the same intentions which he had announced at Laughton.

Putting aside, we say, however, all such considerations, Vernon had sought her friendship, called her "cousin," enforced the distant relationship between them.

Not as lover, but as kinsman,--the only kinsman of her own rank she possessed,--his position in the world, his connections, his brilliant range of acquaintance, made his counsel for her future plans, his aid in the re-establishment of her consequence (if not--as wealthy, still as well-born), and her admission amongst her equals, of price and value.

It was worth sounding the depth of the friendship he had offered, even if his love had passed away with the fortune on which doubtless it had been based.
She took a bold step,--she wrote to Vernon: not even to allude to what had passed between them; her pride forbade such unwomanly vulgarity.
The baseness that was in her took at least a more delicate exterior.