“The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my girl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me keeping it, Lady Bassett--I know I was little better than a thief; but it was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, you are a mother;” and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, “why do you keep saying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years of age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of any other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand many things, and, for one, you'll--under--stand--why I'm so--fool--ish; seeing the sweet boy's mother ready--to cry--too--oh! oh! oh!” Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet cry together in each other's arms. Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought not to agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill. “And that is true, my good, sensible girl,” said Mrs. Bassett; “but it has lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it to myself any longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so I suppose you think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you warm.” “Don't say that, mamma,” said Ruperta, reproachfully. “I spoke to dear Compton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even.” “All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my own girl.” “I never will, mamma.” By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urged to declare her real sentiments. By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest she should be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle in her own mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal tried her hard. She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, pretty firmly and very slowly, “I had always a great affection for my cousin Compton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but a boy; now I--” A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty and conscious womanhood, completed the sentence. “He will get older every day,” said Mrs. Bassett. “And so shall I.” “But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your full growth. He hasn't.” “I agree with the dear girl,” said Lady Bassett, adroitly. “Compton, with his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present. But it is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage; what I fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. To speak plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, and visits at Highmore.” “Yes, he has been there twice.” “He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and he is not a boy, for he has long mustaches.” “I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects,” said the fair young beauty. “You are an extraordinary girl.”