"Most of my relatives are afraid of me, child. They choose their words carefully; they always call me `dear Geoffrey,' or `dear Cousin Geoffrey,' and they agree with every word I say. It's awfully monotonous being agreed with, I can tell you. A daring chit like you is a wonderful change for the better. Now, come down-stairs with me. You and I will have tea together. Rosamund, I wish you had a contented soul." By this time we had returned to the ugly sitting-room with the sky-light. Cousin Geoffrey had lit a fire with his own hands. He was now on his knees toasting some bread. He would not allow me to help him in the smallest particular. "Rosamund," he repeated, "I wish you were contented. Your ambition will undo you; your pride will have a fall." "Very well, Cousin Geoffrey, let it. I would rather ride my high-horse for a day, and have a fall in the evening, than never mount it at all." "Oh, folly, child, stuff and folly! There, the kettle boils. No, you need not help me, I don't want young misses with grand ideas like you to touch my china. Rosamund, do you know--that I am looking out for an heir, or an heiress, to inherit my riches?" "All right, Cousin Geoffrey, only pray don't choose me!" "You, you saucy chit! I want some one who's contented, who won't squander my gold. _You_!--really, Rosamund, your words are a little too bold to be always agreeable." "Please forgive me, Cousin Geoffrey. I just came here to-day to ask you for a little help--just a trifle out of all your wealth, and I don't want you to think to think." "That you have come prying round like the other relatives? Why, child, your eyes have got tears in them. They look soft now--they were fierce enough a few moments ago. I don't think anything bad of you, Rosamund; you are a brave girl. You shall come and see me again." "I will, with pleasure, when I come to London, to study art." "Oh--pooh!--Now drink your tea." After the meal was over, Cousin Geoffrey rose, and held out his hand. "Good-bye, Rosamund," he said. "I am glad you came to see me. You are your mother's daughter, although you have not got her face. You may tell her so if you like, and and--But no; I won't send any other message. Good-bye, Rosamund." "Cousin Geoffrey, you have not told me--Cousin Geoffrey--you won't, oh, you won't disappoint me?" "Child, if I grant your request it will be against my will. As a rule, I never do anything against my will. I disapprove of your scheme. You are just a nice girl, but you are no artist, Rosamund." "Cousin Geoffrey, let me prove to you that I am." "I don't want you to prove it to me. There, if I think twice of this matter you shall hear from me in a week." "And if I don't hear?" "Take my silence for what it means. I respect art--only true votaries must approach her shrine." CHAPTER TWO. COUSIN GEOFFREY.