Yet none the less had he adopted his sister's ideas and made
up his mind to woo and win Marion Arleigh.
"It is well worth your while to try," said his sister. "There are no
parents to interfere; she will be her own mistress the very day she is
of age."
"But she is only about seventeen now," said Allan; "there will be so
long to wait."
"The prize is well worth waiting for. Half the peers in England would be
proud and thankful to win it. If you play your cards well, Allan, in one
way or another you must succeed. Let me tell you the most important
thing to do."
"What is that?" he asked, looking admiringly into his sister's face.
"Persuade her to write to you, and mind that her letters to you contain
a promise of marriage. Do you see the importance of that?"
"You are a clever woman, Adelaide; with you to help me I cannot fail."
And he did not fail. Adelaide had arranged her plans too skillfully for
that. She began by saying how much Allan admired Marion; then, seeing
the idea was not displeasing to the young heiress, she gradually told
her how he was certain to die of love for her.
If a wise mother had trained the girl, she would have been less
susceptible; as it was, the notion of a handsome young artist dying for
her was not at all unpleasant. She was seventeen, and had never had a
lover. Other girls had talked about their flirtations; nothing of the
kind had ever occurred to her. True, whenever she went out she could not
help noticing how men's eyes lingered on her face; but that one should
love her--love her so dearly as to die for her, was to her romantic
imagination strange as it was beautiful.
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