"It is all owing to you, dear," he replied. "You like things to look _gentle_ somehow. I could not see myself looking at you in a place with _loud_ things. It was only this morning I was saying to myself, early this morning, I mean"--he gave a quick sigh as he uttered these last words--"I was saying to myself, that we would furnish the house at Highgate over again according to your ideas. We would just leave a couple of rooms for mother, according to her tastes, and you and I should have the rest of the house furnished as you like. Liberty, Morris, all the rest, everything soft, and cloudy, and dim, and you walking about in the midst of the pretty things, and I coming home, and--but, never mind, dear, only I would like you always to feel, that there is nothing under the sun I would not do for you, nothing." "You are very, very kind," I murmured. "Oh, it is not real kindness," he replied with great earnestness. "You must not speak of it as kindness; you cannot call it that, when you love, and I love you so much, little girl, that when I do things for you, I do things for myself; you can never call it just _kindness_ when you please yourself. That is how I feel about the matter. You understand, don't you?" I nodded. I understood very well. Albert thought me kind when I said gentle and affectionate words to him, but he thought himself rather selfish than otherwise, when he poured out his whole heart at my feet. As we were driving quickly in the direction of Richmond, he told me many of his plans. I had never heard him speak more freely nor unrestrainedly. Amongst other things he mentioned Jane Mullins. "She is a capital woman," he said, "and she and I have gone carefully into the matter of the house in Graham Square. Jane wants to give it up, and it is quite too big for her to manage alone. I am starting her in a little boarding-house in Pimlico, and with her business-like instincts she will do uncommonly well there. She spoke of you when I saw her yesterday, there were tears in her eyes." "She must come and see us when we are settled at Highgate," I replied, but to this remark of mine he made no answer. We got to Richmond, and had some dinner, and then we went out, and walked up and down on the terrace outside the hotel. There was a lovely view, and the stars were coming out. Albert said-- "Let us turn down this walk. It is quite sheltered and rather lonely, and at the farther end there is an arbour, they call it the 'Lover's Arbour.' Beyond doubt many lovers have sat there; you and I, Westenra, will sit there to-night."