"As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be," truly, truly it is an odd and wonderful thing.

And you and I may thank our stars, dear readers, that we are a great deal too sensible to wear our hearts in our sleeves for such a bloodthirsty dew to peck at.

Ormiston's flame was longer-lived than Sir Norman's; he had been in love a whole month, and had it badly, and was now at the very crisis of a malady.

Why did she conceal her face--would she ever disclose it--would she listen to him--would she ever love him?
feverishly asked Passion; and Common Sense (or what little of that useful commodity he had left) answered--probably because she was eccentric--possibly she would disclose it for the same reason; that he had only to try and make her listen; and as to her loving him, why, Common Sense owned he had her there.
I can't say whether the adage! "Faint heart never won fair lady!" was extant in his time; but the spirit of it certainly was, and Ormiston determined to prove it.

He wanted to see La Masque, and try his fate once again; and see her he would, if he had to stay there as a sort of ornamental prop to the house for a week.